


Mr Starf*cks - Longer, Hotter, Stronger...

by fanoftheknight



Series: Mr Starf*cks [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baristas, Cats, Coffee, F/M, Frothing of milk, Grinding, Humour, Some angst, some sexy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: Daenerys likes her men like her coffee - strong, sweet and hot.This is the continuing tale of the barista and the girl who hates the coffee but loves the man who makes it for her... Will they make the perfect blend?
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Mr Starf*cks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700860
Comments: 235
Kudos: 90





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a WIP and I have the first eleven chapters already written so I am expecting to be able to update this story at least once a week for the foreseeable future.
> 
> Special thanks as always go to SlytherinHowl who had challenged me to come up with some super-salty lines for some of the characters in this story. More tags and characters are likely to be added as the story unfolds...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride!

Jorah checked his appearance in the mirror, still not entirely sure that the day’s events hadn’t just been some figment of his imagination.

After weeks of not seeing her, Jorah had begun to lose hope that Daenerys would ever return to the coffee shop he worked in. He’d convinced himself that he was too old for her, he didn’t have enough money, and that she thought him lame for being a single man with only two kittens for company.

He felt his breath leave his body in a rush when she walked into the shop this morning. Despite seeing her every night in his dreams, they were nothing on the breathtaking beauty of seeing her in the flesh.

Her mere presence alone had done some very alarming things to his own flesh too, namely to the organ in his pants. As was his way around exotic and entrancing women, blood left Jorah’s head in a rush, only to pool painfully into his trousers, which became suddenly too tight for comfort while he made her drink this morning.

Jorah had no idea what had possessed him to do it, but he’d taken a sweet pastry to her table along with her coffee. Thinking with his dick had always led him to trouble in the past, yet this morning Jorah knew he had to throw caution to the wind. She would react in one of two ways - she’d find his gift endearing or she would smack him in the face and never grace his doorstep again.

He almost lost his bottle when she questioned why he brought her something that she hadn’t ordered and Jorah suddenly began to fear that he’d made a massive tit of himself in front of her. He’d get up and leave this city, just like he had every other, and run away to somewhere people didn’t know of him or the things he’d done. It would break his heart to leave here and never see her again, but staying in her city and not being able to see her would be even harder still.

He’d been ready to take the pastry away when her hand grabbed his wrist. It had been the first time that their bodies had made contact with one another and surely he wasn’t the only one who felt the spark as their skin touched?

He wanted to pull away from her, but her eyes held him frozen to the spot. Jorah felt his mouth go dry when she told him she had a gift for him too. Without a pause, she leaned forward and kissed him. He felt his heart skip a beat as their lips met, the touch of her mouth on his more than he ever could have hoped for in his dreams about her.

It took him several moments to regain his senses and he felt a deep sense of loss as she moved away slowly.

He vaguely remembered asking her what he’d done to deserve such a gift and had assumed it had been the coffee he made her. He wasn't expecting her to tell him that his coffee was shit and that she’d returned, day after day, merely because she wanted to see him.

Jorah still couldn’t quite believe that she wanted to see him, tonight of all nights.

Not long after she had pulled him in for another kiss, a customer walked through the door, looking less than impressed to find the barista offering another customer a little extra serving on the side.

He kept his gaze firmly on Daenerys as he made the middle-aged man’s coffee and handed it to him without looking in his direction. Hell, he’d probably given the man the wrong change but at that point he didn’t really care. As long as she was looking at him with that coy smile as she drank her latte and nibbled on the Danish pastry, the world could have gone to hell in a hand basket and he wouldn’t have cared less.

All too soon she left the coffee shop, but not before asking if he’d meet her that evening in a pub not far from the coffee shop.

Taking one last look in the mirror, Jorah readjusted his hair for the fourth time in as many minutes before grabbing his black leather jacket and making his way out of his tiny little cramped apartment, ignoring the annoyed whines of Khaleesi and Longclaw as he shut the door.

He replayed what he would say to her during the walk to the pub, smiling at a pair of young people in love as they stumbled down the street, clearly already enjoying their festive celebrations. By the time he’d made it to the entrance of the trendy establishment, he’d pretty much talked himself out of ever having a chance with the beautiful Daenerys Targaryen.

Maybe he’d read the signals all wrong. Maybe she’d turn up with a man younger and richer than he was. Maybe she’d only kissed him this morning for some sort of dare with her girlfriends…

He stood outside the pub, watching several people enter and leave as he hesitated and shuffled from foot to foot, plucking up the courage to either head inside or run away completely.

He found the choice being made for him as the pub door swung open and Daenerys looked at him, clearly amused judging by the expression on her face.

“Are you going to stand out there all night?” She asked, a glass of white wine in her hand. “You’ll freeze your balls off if you do.”

Jorah felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, realising that she’d been able to see him from her table by the window. With an awkward nod of his head, he followed her into the rowdy yet blissfully warm pub.

Making himself comfortable in the window booth she’d secured for them, Jorah smiled as Daenerys pushed a pint of beer toward him.

“It might be a little warm now,” she said, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Especially since you spent the past twenty minutes standing out there.” Her hand shot to her mouth as a realisation hit her. “Sorry, I just assumed you were a beer kind of man,” she said, gesturing to the pint of amber liquid in his hand.

He took a sip and returned her smile. “Beer is fine, thank you.”

The pub was packed, which wasn’t surprising considering that it was Christmas Eve, but thankfully Daenerys had been able to find them a small and comfortable space where they could at least hear each other speak without having to shout across the table to one another.

Daenerys continued to watch him, a smile creeping along her delicate porcelain features. “What were you doing out there?”

Jorah rubbed at his beard, debating whether or not to be honest with her. “I’d convinced myself you wouldn’t be here,” he said, keeping his eyes on his beer mat. “I guess I was worried that you’d changed your mind.”

“Are you kidding me?” She said, her tone incredulous. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

His eyes shot up to meet hers and he couldn’t doubt the sincerity in them.

“Do you not believe me?” Daenerys asked, her tone slightly hurt as he continued to look at her.

He ran a hand over his face. “It’s not you that I doubt,” he said quietly. “And I guess I’m not all that good at these things either.”

“What, like talking, you mean?” Daenerys replied, the glint in her eyes returning. “Maybe just open your mouth and let the words come out. I find that usually helps.”

The trouble was that his mouth, and his heart, had gotten him into trouble far too many times before.

“Why me?” He asked, aware of how blunt the question sounded. He was too old for messing around and too experienced in getting his heart broken to risk getting hurt again.

Her response was equally as blunt and brought Jorah up short. “Why not?”

“Because you could do a hell of a lot better,” he said, shaking his head and taking another sip of his beer. This was not how he’d wanted their first date to turn out. He was fucking it up, just like he always did.

“Because I like you,” she said, her tone softer this time. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

He looked at her, frowning deeply. “Because you’re you and I’m…well, I’m me.”

“Okaaaaay…..” She said, her eyes slipping to the bar.

Jorah realised he’d messed it up before they’d even really got to know one another. He pulled on his coat and stood abruptly.

“Wait there,” he told her, before disappearing from her line of sight only to reappear a few moments later.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked her hopefully, praying that she wouldn’t tell him to fuck off and leave her alone.

Daenerys smiled at him, knowing what he was doing.

“Sure, why not?” She said as he removed his jacket and sat down across the table from her. “And you are….?” She left the question unfinished.

“Mr. Starfucks, pleased to meet you,” Jorah replied, holding out his hand to her, laughing at her shocked expression. He’d clearly taken her by surprise.

Daenerys suddenly blushed a deep red, holding her head in her hand as she took a large gulp of her wine. “I said it out loud, didn’t I?” She suddenly couldn’t bear to look at him. One eye finally popping open as she heard him laugh.

“This morning, you mean?” He said, taking a large gulp of his beer, wiping the foam from his beard. “Yes, you did. Mr. Starfucks, huh?”

Opening both eyes, she looked at him with remorse. 

“It’s….uh….it’s a long story,” she finished lamely, swallowing the last of her wine.

Noticing her glass was empty, Jorah stood. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else to be. You?”

She shook her head, realising that there was nowhere she’d rather be right now, even if it did mean that she’d have to explain where ‘Mr. Starfucks’ had come from…

* * *

The sound of the bell being rung for last orders at the bar took Jorah by surprise. The evening had passed in a flash as both the drinks and the conversation flowed between them. He knew his bank balance would regret the money he’d spent on several rounds of drinks, but to see her smile and her eyes to light up as she spoke made the sacrifices he’d have to make next month worth it.

“Maybe we should go before they lock us in,” Daenerys said, swallowing the last of her wine as she stood slightly unsteadily.

Jorah put an arm around her waist, helping her to keep upright as they made their way outside and into the cold December air. She seemed determined to walk in a particular direction and he was more than happy to follow her.

As the cold night air set in and the effects of the alcohol waned, Jorah noticed how much the woman he was walking arm in arm with was shivering. Breaking contact with her, he removed his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“I think we should get you home,” Jorah said as he kissed her forehead.

Daenerys seemed confused by the question. “Home? Whose home?”

“I’ll get you a cab, make sure you get home safely.”

His bank balance couldn’t really afford to take another hit, but he’d sacrifice a few days of food for himself if it meant that this intoxicating young woman would remain safe. There were too many dangers lurking in the shadows, something he knew only too well.

Daenerys seemed to consider the question for a moment. “You live somewhere round here, right?”

“I’m fairly sure you’d rather go anywhere than my pokey little flat,” he frowned.

“Pokey,” Daenerys repeated, giggling at herself. “Take me to your pokey place.” She laughed at something only she found amusing.

Jorah rubbed at his beard. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Jorah, it’s fucking freezing out here. Stop pissing about and take me back to yours before I freeze my tits off.”

He opened his mouth and closed it several times. He’d never, in all his years, met someone quite like the pushy, rude, drunk and impossibly beautiful woman who stood before him.

She can sleep on the sofa, he told himself as he looped his arm in hers and walked in the direction of his tiny flat. The thought suddenly occurred to him that the cats would be annoyed to find another human encroaching on their territory. They would not take kindly to another human demanding the attentions of their father.

Jorah helped her up the steps, hesitating as they stood on the stoop. He jiggled the keys nervously in his pocket.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, come here,” Daenerys said, pulling him toward her, kissing him intently.

As much as his body wanted to respond, Jorah pulled away. “Wait,” he gasped, his chest heaving from their kiss.

Daenerys rolled her eyes at him. “I swear to god that if you don’t open this door right now that I’m going to have my way with you on the fucking doorstep and I don’t give a shit if your neighbours hear us.”

Jorah shook his head. “I don’t do one night stands, Daenerys. I’ve been around the block too many times. I’ve been hurt too much....”

“I want you, Jorah,” she told him, her tone softening. “I like you. I mean, I _really_ like you…why do you think I drank your coffee for so long?”

“If we’re going to do this, it has to mean something,” he replied. “Please don’t mess me around if you don’t mean it.”

His words seemed to sober her up immediately. “Jorah - “

He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. “I’m not asking for forever or for your hand in marriage. Just a promise that you won’t regret this in the morning.”

Her fingers ghosted down his bearded cheek. “I wanted this for weeks…I’ve wanted _you_ for weeks. I’ll want you tomorrow and the day after that…and the day after that…and the - “

He’d heard enough to throw caution to the wind and silenced her with a kiss before opening the door and guiding her inside.


	2. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what did happen when Jorah finally opened his front door?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will still be posting a chapter of this story per week, alongside my Jorleesi bingo story so please forgive my indulgence for hitting you with so many chapters so quickly! :)

Daenerys launched herself at Jorah the moment the door was closed behind him. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him closer as their mouths crashed into one another.

“Now, Jorah,” Daenerys breathed, urging him onwards as she made for the stairs in the old Edwardian building.

He shook his head and nodded towards a door further down the darkened corridor, taking her by the hand and leading her towards his small, cramped living space.

He could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck as he fumbled with his keys once more, a number of expletives spilling from his lips as his hands shook. Finally unlocking the door, he pulled her inside, divesting her of his leather jacket that looked far sexier on her than it did on him.

Daenerys pulled at his shirt, her fingers fumbling for the buttons as her mouth descended on his. After struggling with a few of them, Daenerys grabbed both sides of the blue cotton shirt and ripped them apart, tossing the remnants back over Jorah’s shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Daenerys breathed into his mouth, realising she had yet another layer of clothing to remove. Taking a step back and regaining her breath for a moment, she grabbed at the bottom of the white t-shirt and pulled it over his head as Jorah lifted his arms obligingly.

Their mouths met once more, but not before their teeth and noses clashed together as they sought to bring one another closer, making both of them apologise and laugh like giddy teenagers. She wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it, but several moments later, Daenerys found herself divested of her top and bra as Jorah’s hands roamed across her sensitive flesh.

Her hands found the back of his head as her tongue thrust into his mouth. She pulled on his hair, urging him onwards as his hands moved toward her skirt. Not to be outdone, she grabbed at his belt and after several tries and growls of frusrtration, she finally unclasped the buckle and set her attentions on working at the button and flies of his jeans, all the while keeping their mouths fused together in an erotic dance of urgency and need.

He made short work of her panties, feeling them drop to her ankles as her hand finally broke through the layer of denim and found its way to his manhood, surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath his jeans.

Daenerys found herself pushed back against the wall and lifted off her feet. Wrapping her legs around him, she gasped as he entered her quickly and began thrusting, her back banging against the wall with each move he made. He moved his mouth away from hers and kissed at her cheek and neck, grunting softly with the effort of his exertions as she fisted his hair and urged him onwards, the contact of their lower bodies meeting repeatedly creating a heady sensation that few men had ever managed in her experience.

As she felt her orgasm growing, Daenerys realised how long it had been since a man had made her feel this way. All too often, after a minute or two of thrusting, they had rolled off of her and fallen asleep, leaving her frustrated and unfulfilled. Jorah was older than her and perhaps his experience showed as she reached her peak after several minutes of intense pleasure and he followed her shortly after.

He held her against the wall, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he tried to regain control of his breathing. Daenerys felt a sense of disappointment as he broke the intimate contact between them and lowered her feet gently back to the floor, rearranging her skirt before buttoning and zipping up his jeans.

“I’m sorry,” Jorah said, brushing sweaty locks of hair away from his forehead. “That wasn’t quite how I imagined our first time.”

Still trying to regulate her breathing, Daenerys shot him an incredulous look before smiling wryly at him. “You’ve been imagining having sex with me?”

Jorah felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as he tried his best to backtrack. “I…uh…” he stuttered.

Daenerys couldn’t help but find it endearing. “I’m teasing you,” she said as she kissed him on the lips, her hand cradling his cheek. “And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about it too.”

Her heart broke at the look of sadness on his face. “It’s been a long time since…since I’ve felt this way about someone. I just wanted it to mean more than a quick shag against a wall. You deserve better than that.”

Daenerys looked at him for a number of moments. “You have a bed, right?” She asked, a grin forming on her beautiful features.

Jorah nodded his head as he collected their discarded garments from the floor.

“Then lead the way.”

* * *

Their second coupling was much slower than the first as Jorah took his time to map out every area of her body with both his mouth and hands, bringing her to her peak several times before they both fell into an exhausted slumber.

Daenerys slept peacefully until a soft purring noise woke her from the pleasant dream she was having about the man lying next to her.

Opening her eyes slowly, she found two sets of feline eyes staring back at her, looking at her intently.

The kittens that Jorah had taken in were not impressed to find another person in their father’s bed, it would seem.

“Nice kitty,” Daenerys whispered to the small black cat as it crept a little closer to her. Its movements were staccato in nature, as if it were not sure whether to approach the intruder or run and hide. The tabby-coloured cat sat still, cocking its head one way and then the other before licking her flank and washing her face.

The high-pitched sound the black cat made caused Daenerys to flinch involuntarily. She looked at Jorah who was still fast asleep beside her and who only groaned something unintelligible at the sound the cat made.

With the tabby cat making its way toward her, Daenerys decided that she’d had enough.

Reaching out with her left hand, she shook Jorah by the shoulder while keeping her eyes firmly on the feline creatures in front of her. 

Jorah responded with a grunt.

“Jorah, wake up!” Daenerys said, her voice much louder this time as she shook his shoulder with more force than was probably necessary.

“Hmm?” Jorah replied sleepily, running a hand over his face as he opened his eyes. “What is it?”

“Your cats,” Daenerys said, not taking her eyes from them. “They’re staring at me?”

Jorah sat up in bed, laughing. It earned him a smack on the arm from Daenerys.

“It’s not funny,” she said, clearly unimpressed with his response. “That black one looks like it wants to kill me.”

Jorah held his arms out as the two kittens climbed on his chest and began rubbing their faces on him, reaffirming their scent and the fact that he was their property and part of their family.

“They’re harmless,” Jorah replied, clearly relishing in the affection that his two feline companions were bestowing on him. “Longclaw is more afraid of his own shadow than he is anyone else,” he said as he stroked the small black cat’s fur. “Give Khaleesi a day or two and she’ll be your best friend, especially if there’s food involved.”

As if to make the point, the tabby cat made her way over to Daenerys, sniffing her bare arm lightly before turning and making her way back to her adopted father.

“You’re assuming that I’ll be here for more than a day,” Daenerys said, intending her tone to be teasing. It seemed to have the opposite effect instead as his face fell into a frown.

Swallowing his disappointment upon realising her words from last night had meant nothing, he nodded his head and cast his eyes towards his lap, only to find her hand tilting his chin back toward her.

“Hey, I was teasing,” she said before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You seriously need to get a better sense of humour.”

He winced at her attempt at levity. After several years of moving from place to place, trying to outrun his actions of the past, he’d become mistrustful of almost everyone.

Painting a smile on his face, he apologised. “Sorry…it’s just…” his words trailed off as he waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

He looked so sad at that moment that all Daenerys wanted to do was reach out and pull him to her. Whoever had hurt him in the past had done an excellent job, that was for sure. Maybe now wasn’t the time to push him for information, but Daenerys promised herself that she would get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

A sharp and insistent meow from Khaleesi broke the moment between them as Jorah rubbed the kitten’s face and pulled the duvet cover back. It was only as Jorah stood from the bed that she realised all of their clothes were still spread across his tiny flat after their passionate encounter the night before.

To her surprise, Jorah seemed completely unfazed by his nakedness in front of her and walked around the room as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. One look at his trim figure was enough to know that a physique like his was nothing to be embarrassed about. Despite him being several years older than her, his body was one that many men her own age would have been envious of.

Daenerys swallowed her disappointment as he pulled on his jeans and made his way to the kitchen area with the cats following keenly behind him. She listened as he hummed and talked to the cats as if they would suddenly turn around and answer him. Rather than being embarrassing, she found his bond with the kittens endearing, especially the way they bestowed affection on him. She had always been more of a dog person herself, but there was something about watching Jorah with the two small cats that made her heart melt for all three of them.

“Would you like a coffee?” Jorah called from the kitchen, poking his head around the doorway that separated the living and bedroom area from the kitchen.

She nodded her head gratefully, her stomach reminding her that she’d drunk far too much wine the night before.

Daenerys cocked her eyebrow as he returned a few minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee, passing one to her as he climbed back on to the bed, laying on the duvet while she was still under it.

“Don’t worry, it’s instant,” he said, taking a sip from his own mug. “I know my coffee tastes like shit, but even I can’t mess up pouring water and milk into a mug.”

Daenerys gave him a wry smile, recalling the words she’d said to him in the coffee shop yesterday. Maybe she’d been a little harsh, but after months of longing for him, she’d finally lost patience and told him the real reason she kept getting her coffee from his shop.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a sip of the steaming beverage.

He shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t be, I’m glad you told me, otherwise who knows how long I’d have been labouring under false pretences. I really thought it was the coffee that kept you coming back.”

“Not the coffee, just the guy who makes it,” she replied.

“Not very well, apparently.”

Finishing her coffee, Daenerys placed the mug down and turned on her side to face him. “Well, if it makes him feel any better, he’s really good at some other things…” Her fingers began creeping their way up his bicep.

As much as he would have liked to indulge her, the sound of the church bells ringing reminded him that it was Christmas Day.

“Uh, we might have an issue,” Jorah said, sitting up straighter on the bed. “There’ll be no taxis or public transport running today.”

“Why is that a problem?” Daenerys asked, adding her lips to his bicep too.

“Don’t you want to go home and spend Christmas with your friends and family?”

Her hands and lips halted at his question. Her brother was god-only-knew where and Khal had been dead for several years now. All of her friends had their own families to spend the holiday season with.

“No, not really,” she replied solemnly. “Don’t you?”

Jorah shook his head. “It’s just me and the cats. Sad, huh?”

“Looks like it’s just you, me and the cats,” Daenerys observed. “Until tomorrow at least. Is that ok with you?”

Jorah nodded his head and smiled at her. If today was all they had and she left and never saw him again afterward, the pain would be worth it. There was something about this woman that drew him to her and even if she ended up using and discarding him like Lynesse had, it would have been worth it just to be with her at all, no matter how short their time together might be.


	3. Never Have I Ever

Ever the gentleman, Jorah offered Daenerys the bathroom and any hot water his tiny boiler might have created while he set about figuring what on earth he was going to do when it came to their Christmas dinner.

He’d never really stayed in one place for too long these past few years and with no one to spend the holidays with since Lynesse had left him, he’d decided to forgo the occasion altogether and would often spend the day getting hopelessly drunk when his funds allowed him to.

He hadn’t really held out much hope that he would be able to afford to rent anywhere in the city but had stumbled across an ad in a shop window for a lodger and with nothing to lose, he’d rung the number, more with hope than expectation that he’d be able to meet the monthly rent.

The landlady must have taken pity on his sorry state when he arrived on her doorstep with his bag slung over his shoulder and Jorah was surprised when she offered him her small apartment downstairs from her main residence even though he didn’t have the money to pay a month’s rent in advance.

Mrs. Chambers was not at all what Jorah had expected and maybe, after years of moving from place to place, he’d finally stumbled across some good fortune. His landlady was a kindly woman nearing her seventies and had looked at him with sympathetic eyes as he stood on her doorstep that cold February morning. 

Having only just started at the coffee shop, he didn’t have the funds to pay his way until his paycheck at the end of the month. She had smiled and waved her hand, telling him that ‘she knew a good man when she saw one’ and that he could pay her when he had the money.

If only she knew what he’d done to get himself into such a sorry state in the first place…

“What’s for dinner?” Daenerys asked, bringing Jorah’s thoughts back to the present with a jolt - one that was replicated in his groin as he saw her standing in his tiny kitchen, towel-drying her hair and dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. It certainly looked better on her than it did on him.

He swallowed thickly before opening his fridge and freezer to count his meagre stock of food.

“A 12-inch Margherita pizza and a couple of cans of lager?” He suggested, wincing at how lame it sounded.

“You weren’t going to have anything special?” Daenerys asked, continuing to dry her hair with the towel.

Jorah shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not really a canapés and Christmas pudding type of guy,” he said awkwardly.

He opened the cupboards and found a couple of cans of tinned peaches and showed them to her. 

“Will this and some ice cream do for desert?” He asked her.

Daenerys seemed to consider it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Fuck it. Why not?”

* * *

With the pizza on a plate, Jorah guided Daenerys through to the ratty couch he’d inherited from Mrs. Chambers. Truth be told, all of the furniture had been provided by her. Passing Daenerys a can of beer, he switched on the television, surprised to see his favourite film It’s A Wonderful Life being shown.

Daenerys picked up on his sense of melancholy as he let out a deep sigh.

“We don’t have to watch this. We can change it to another channel if you want?” She suggested.

Jorah shook his head, taking a long draught of his beer.

“No…it’s…I just haven’t seen this film for such a long time.” He took another sip of his beer. “I used to watch it every Christmas Day with my mother when I was a child.”

Daenerys took a bite of her pizza. “Used to?” She asked around a mouthful of food. “You don’t anymore?”

A look of such longing crossed Jorah’s features that she wanted to reach over and hug him tightly.

“My mother died when I was eleven.”

Daenerys swallowed the food in her mouth, suddenly feeling awkward for raising the subject.

“I’m so sorry, that must have been rough,” she said, squeezing his arm in what she hoped was a gesture of sympathy.

Jorah shook his head, attempting to wave away her pity for him.

“It was a long time ago,” he said, taking another large gulp of his beer.

“What about your father, didn’t he watch it with you after your mother passed away?”

Her question was innocent enough, but all it accomplished was for Jorah to feel another deep pang of sadness and regret, one that the kittens seemed to pick up on as they hovered near his legs.

“My father…he...uh, he sent me to live with my Aunt Maege after my mother died,” Jorah said by way of explanation. “He’s a Chief Superintendent in the Metropolitan Police. He said he didn’t have time to balance a career and be a single parent.”

While she’d never met Jorah’s father, Daenerys was already certain that she’d hate the man if she ever met him. What kind of man would send his child away so soon after losing his mother?

“That is so shitty, Jorah,” she replied. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “My Aunt Maege had four daughters, so at least I had my cousins to keep me company.”

Both of them sat in silence for a while, eating their pizza and watching as the conclusion to the film played out on the television screen. It suddenly hit Daenerys as to how lonely she’d been since Khal’s death several years ago.

Not that spending Christmas with her family had been much better, but despite how capricious Viserys and her father could be, she at least knew that they had loved her in their own way, despite how difficult they'd found it to show her at times.

Her relationship with her father and brother had steadily deteriorated after the death of her mother, shortly followed by the death of her eldest brother Rhaegar, who was killed in a fight outside a nightclub when Daenerys was only a small child.

Now that her father had died and Viserys had disappeared somewhere, they’d left a huge void in her life that Khal had filled for a time, before he too passed away, leaving Daenerys feeling more alone than she ever had before.

For the past few years, Daenerys indulged in far too many parties and way too much alcohol, trying to fill the hole in her life that she never seemed to be able to fill. After spending less than twenty-four hours in Jorah’s company, Daenerys realised she felt more content than she had in years. There was something about his presence that made her feel safe.

Suddenly feeling awkward for bringing the conversation to a low point, Jorah got up from the sofa. 

“I…uh…I need to feed the cats.”

He winced at how lame he sounded as he walked toward the kitchen, shaking his head and admonishing himself. There would be no way Daenerys would ever want to see him again after the shit-show of a day he’d treated her to so far.

Little did he know that Daenerys was already feeling more than comfortable in his presence and that her heart ached for the sorrow in his eyes as he spoke of his childhood and the loss of his mother. It also hadn’t escaped her attention that while Jorah bought expensive food for the kittens, he survived on meagre rations of food for himself and it made her feel all the more guilty for how much she took for granted in her own life when it came to money.

Daenerys knew that he would not want her pity and yet she yearned to be able to make him feel better about his lot in life. The lines on his face and the sadness in his eyes told of a life that had been harsh and difficult. Maybe, with time, Jorah would tell her more about his past and the things that had happened to him.

She smiled as he came back to the couch with two fresh cans of beer, smiling not only at the beverage but at the fact that she was excited at the prospect of getting to know this mysterious man better.

An idea struck her suddenly.

“You know, it’s traditional to play a game on Christmas Day,” she said, her can of beer opening with a loud hiss. “Are you up for it?”

Jorah looked at her dubiously as he opened his own beer and took a gulp. One look at the eagerness in her eyes was enough to make him acquiesce and he realised that although he barely knew her, she would no doubt be able to talk him into doing anything that she pleased.

“Sure, why not?” Jorah replied, trying to sound casual while the thought of playing any kind of game made his insides clench with unease.

“Have you ever played ’never have I ever’ before?”

He nodded his head before frowning. “Not since I was a…” he stopped himself before he said something that would make the age gap between them painfully obvious. “Not for a while.”

“Can I start?” Daenerys asked, clearly relishing the idea of the game.

Jorah nodded. “Sure.”

“Never have I ever turned up to work hungover,” Daenerys said.

Jorah’s only response was to take a gulp of his beer, earning a smile from the woman sitting next to him on the couch.

“Never have I ever skipped a day of school,” Jorah supplied, cocking an eyebrow as Daenerys took a gulp of her beer.

“Never have I ever fallen asleep on public transport and ended up getting off at the wrong stop.”

Jorah smiled at her as his beer stayed in his lap.

“Really?” Daenerys asked. “Ever?”

“Nope,” he replied. “Don’t forget to drink,” he added with a grin before firing another statement at her. “Never have I ever told someone that I loved them.”

The look on Daenerys’ face told Jorah everything he needed to know as they clinked their cans together before taking another sip from them.

Daenerys suddenly had a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “Never have I ever kissed a woman.”

Jorah shot her a dirty look at took another swig of his beer. 

“Never have I ever kissed a man,” he shot back, grinning at her.

“Touché,” Daenerys replied.

Several rounds and cans of beer later, Jorah realised that it was probably a good time to call it a night, knowing that Daenerys would be eager to get back to her own apartment in the morning. It hurt to think that she would probably not want to see him again, but if today was all he had with her, it was worth it just to feel content once more. For far too long he’d been living with the pain and regret of his past and today was the first time that he felt something other than shame.

Stripped down to his boxer shorts, Jorah lay in the bed waiting for Daenerys to return from the bathroom. While he usually preferred to sleep naked, he didn’t want to presume that the woman sharing his bed would ever want to repeat what had happened between them the night before.

Daenerys stripped down to her bra and panties and climbed into bed, joining him under the sheets and cuddling up next to him.

“Never have I ever fallen asleep in someone else’s arms,” she whispered as her hand played with the covering of hair on his chest.

Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head as she let out a contented sigh and slowly drifted off to sleep.


	4. History Revisited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a warning of: GRAPHIC CONTENT
> 
> Therefore, if anyone is of a gentle persuasion I would advise caution with this chapter.

Much to Jorah’s surprise, Daenerys made a point of swapping phone numbers with him as he walked her to the train station after their time spent sequestered in his tiny little apartment on Christmas Day.

As Christmas passed and turned into New Year, the two of them met up as regularly as their schedules allowed them to and unbeknownst to Daenerys, Jorah had begun picking up the late shifts at the coffee shop as well as the early morning ones. If he were to keep this beautiful young lady happy and interested in him, he’d need more than the paltry pay packet he earned from his morning shifts alone.

Working double shifts five days a week left Jorah feeling beyond exhausted, yet he always got a jolt of energy from reading a text from Daenerys or meeting her for a drink in a local bar before returning to his apartment to spend the night with her. As they got used to her presence, even the kittens began showing an interest in her each time she visited.

His second shift of the day had been exhausting and Jorah began counting down the hours to when he could close the shop for the evening and head back to his apartment to fall into an exhausted slumber with the cats curling up next to him.

Lifting his gaze from the till, Jorah’s eyes landed on the face of a man who seemed oddly familiar to him.

“What can I get you?” He asked the young man, feeling slightly unnerved at the way the dark-haired man was looking at him.

“Large black coffee, two shots of espresso. To go.” The man replied gruffly.

“Can I take a name?” Jorah asked, picking up a takeaway cup and pen.

The young man narrowed his eyes at him, staring at him before answering. “Rickard.”

More than used to dealing with his fair share of grumpy customers, Jorah set about making the man his drink, hoping to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

As he turned his back to the man and began making his coffee, Jorah couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met the guy somewhere before.

* * *

Daenerys sat at her desk, wishing the woman on the other end of the phone would quit with her whining and bitching.

Having exchanged terse words before Christmas, Daenerys had been ordered to apologise to Cersei Lannister in an effort to keep the stuck-up bitch on the talent agency’s books. Her boss made it clear that nothing less than a grovelling apology would do and that if Daenerys refused, she’d be looking for another job, sooner rather than later.

Not only had she had to apologise by letter and email, Daenerys was also forced to stand in front of the prissy little drama queen and issue a heartfelt apology. The words tumbled from her mouth and yet it felt as if she were chewing on glass that would choke her if she didn’t get it over with as quickly as possible.

Cersei Lannister made it all worse by looking at her with a shit-eating grin as she listened to Daenerys’ apology. It was all she could do not to smack that look off of Cersei’s face and punch her into the middle of next week.

“Jon Snow is interested in doing a duet with me,” Cersei drawled, the sound of her taking a drag of her cigarette clearly audible in the background.

The sound of Jon Snow’s name made Daenerys’ insides clench painfully, reminding her of the brief fling they’d had not long after Khal’s death.

Despite looking pretty and having a face that most other men would kill for, Daenerys couldn’t help but find Jon Snow an utter bore for the few weeks they dated. All too consumed by his past and his sense of loyalty, they guy was about as interesting as wet paint.

Perhaps the ‘White bread McMan Pain’ thing worked on the young girls who flocked to buy his albums, but all of his songs sounded like a funeral dirge to Daenerys and it honestly surprised her that people weren’t committing suicide en-mass when his latest album dropped recently.

‘Songs to Get By’ was a hit album and Jon Snow was now covering every music magazine cover in sight and gracing every talk show going, the audiences lapping up his doe eyes and sad little face.

“Music to slit your wrists by,’ Daenerys thought as she tuned out Cersei Lannister’s irritatingly squawky voice.

“Jon has a song called, ‘I Don’t Want It’ and is looking for a female vocalist to release the single with. I want you to make it happen, Targaryen.”

Daenerys let Cersei’s brusque manner wash over her as she stifled a laugh at the sound of Jon Snow’s new song. Not much of a conversationalist, Jon’s mainly spoke only of his pain and the weight of some unfounded destiny weighing on his shoulders. One he couldn’t speak of, apparently. How many times had she heard Jon say, ‘I don’t want it. I never have’?

Rolling her eyes, Daenerys picked up her mobile phone, pleased to see a text from Jorah asking if she could meet him for a drink tonight after his shift at the coffee shop. She text back immediately, only now realising his shift pattern must have changed and agreeing to meet him there.

Preferring to focus on meeting up with the man she was quickly falling in love with, Daenerys once again tuned her client out and hoped that she was nodding and agreeing in all the right places.

* * *

Jorah let out a sigh of relief as he set about sweeping the shop’s floor, knowing that he would have an evening with Daenerys to look forward to in less than an hour.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling about the young man who’d all but stared at him earlier in the afternoon as he asked the man’s order. Something about his facial features tugged at the back of Jorah’s mind as he tried to figure out why he looked so familiar.

Hearing the door to the shop open, Jorah called from over his shoulder as he swept around the last of the tables. “We’re closed for the day, sorry.”

The next thing Jorah felt was his head coming into contact with the corner of one of the tables as an unseen force barrelled into him from behind.

It was then that he felt someone’s hot breath by his ear as Jorah found himself dragged to his feet by the young man he instantly recognised as being the same one who had entered the shop earlier in the afternoon.

“I’m not sorry,” the man said as he nodded to someone to hold Jorah upright before punching him several times in the face and chest. “But you will be.”

He fell to his hands and knees as the man behind him let him go and shoved him roughly toward the floor.

“Who are you?” Jorah gasped, trying to draw in breath. “What do you want?”

His attacker sneered at him before kicking him in the stomach, sending Jorah on to his side as he groaned in pain.

The man bent down and grabbed Jorah by his hair. “Is my name not familiar to you?” He growled. “Are things a little hazy for you?” The young man smashed Jorah’s head onto the floor. “Maybe we need to ring your bell a few more times until you get it?”

There were black spots in Jorah’s vision as blood ran from a cut above his left eyebrow. His ears were ringing as the room span violently around him. “Please,” he begged as he lay on the floor. “I haven’t done anything to you. If you want the money from the till, just take it.”

His words were met with a booted foot slamming down on his back.

“You haven’t done anything to me?” The young man repeated with an incredulous laugh. “My father died in prison because of you!”

As dazed as he was, it suddenly dawned on him why the man’s face was so familiar. Rickard Umber was the son of one of the men that he’d traded to the police for his own freedom.

Rickard picked up the fallen broom and snapped the handle in half, circling the man who lay helpless on the floor.

“Do you know what they do to men who look like my father in prison?”

Jorah flinched, hoping that Rickard wasn’t going to demonstrate exactly that.

He didn’t have much time to consider the notion before Rickard set about beating him with the broken piece of wood until Jorah was sure he was going to pass out.

“You walked away scot free, you bastard!” Rickard shouted as he brought the broom handle down with all the power he could muster. “He was your friend and you sold him out!”

Jorah felt the weapon land on his shoulder blades. “Please, don’t do this,” he begged, feeling the blood dripping from his mouth.

“Why?” Rickard snarled as he hit the prone man once more. “You never stopped to think about him, did you?”

“I’m sorry,” Jorah gasped as he felt a blow land on the back of his legs.

“You’re sorry?” Rickard shouted. “Sorry that your past has finally caught up with you?”

“I…” Jorah ground out, trying to keep his tenuous grip on consciousness.

“You know, maybe I should make you pay by breaking a bone for every year my father spent in prison because of you. Grab his arm,” Rickard instructed his accomplice. “Keep it nice and still,” he drawled as Jorah felt his left hand pinned to the floor. He screamed in agony as Rickard stamped on his wrist and then his hand. “How does it feel now, Mormont?”

Jorah braced himself for more when another male voice called out, “Rick, looks like someone’s coming this way. We better move.”

Jorah tried to lift his head to see who it was, praying that Daenerys would not arrive and end up paying for his mistakes. All further thought was cut off as a boot flew towards his face and then…

Nothing.

* * *

Glad that the working day was finally over, Daenerys made her way to the coffee shop where Jorah worked, humming a jaunty tune to herself and knowing that spending the evening with him would make up for the hour-long call Cersei Lannister had subjected her to this afternoon.

“Hey honey, I’m home,” Daenerys called as she entered the shop expecting to see Jorah sitting at one of the tables waiting for her arrival. Although she couldn’t place it, something didn’t feel right and Daenerys gasped as she saw tables pushed haphazardly across the room and a broken end of a broom laying on the floor.

“Jorah!” She shouted as her eyes fell upon his prone form. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts and one of his eyes was swollen shut as he lay in a pool of his own blood. “Jorah, can you hear me?” She said, reaching out a shaky hand to touch him, terrified that she would place her fingers on his neck and find him dead.

After several tries, she managed to find his pulse as she let out a sigh of relief, pulling her phone from her coat pocket to dial the emergency services. After only two rings Daenerys cursed the operator for not picking up her call straight away.

“999, what’s your emergency?” A female voice said.

Daenerys willed herself to keep her voice steady. “I need an ambulance, quickly!”

“Ok,” the operator replied. “Are you calling from the location that we need to send an ambulance to?”

“Of course I am,” Daenerys shot back. “He needs help, now!”

Seemingly unfazed, the operator told her that a unit had already been dispatched and was on its way.

“Can you tell me what happened?” The Operator asked.

One look at the state of the coffee shop told Daenerys all she needed to know. “I think there’s been a robbery,” she sobbed, keeping her hand on Jorah’s prone body. “They’ve hurt him,” she said several moments later. “Oh my god, they’ve really hurt him.”

“What’s his name?” The operator asked in the same calm tone she’d used throughout the call.

“What the hell has that got to do with it?” Daenerys shot back. “Just send a fucking ambulance here right now!”

“They’re en route,” the operator replied, repeating what she’d said earlier. “The paramedics will need his information and anything you can tell me now might help.”

Daenerys screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s ok,” the operator assured her. “Miss…”

“My name is Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen.”

“And do you know the man who needs medical attention?”

“Yes, his name is Jorah. Jorah Mormont.”

“Ok Daenerys, can you tell me if Jorah is breathing properly?” The operator asked.

Daenerys leaned down as close as she dared to his body. “I… I think so.”

“Is he conscious?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Can you see any obvious signs of injury?” 

Daenerys bit back a growl, if the operator could see the state Jorah was in, she wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question.

“He’s lying on his side, but there’s blood around his head and his hand…” Daenerys sobbed as she saw the purpling flesh of Jorah’s left hand.

“The ambulance is about two minutes away, Daenerys. If he regains consciousness, try to keep him calm. I’ll stay on the line until the paramedics get there, ok?”

Several moments later, two paramedics burst through the door carrying bags of equipment and everything began to feel oddly surreal as Daenerys watched them check Jorah over before lifting him onto a stretcher and making for the door.

“Are you coming with him?” The female paramedic asked.

Daenerys nodded her head. “Will he be ok?” She asked tentatively. Jorah had not moved nor made a sound since she found him lying on the floor.

The paramedic gave her a sympathetic look. “We’ll do everything we can for him, I promise you.”

It wasn’t the response she wanted to hear.


	5. The Gentleman and the Landlady

Daenerys sat in the relatives’ room waiting for news on Jorah’s condition, nursing a now-cold cup of coffee from the machine in the hallway outside the A&E department, trying to stop her hands from shaking, hands that still had Jorah’s blood on them.

The journey to the hospital had been mercifully quick but not without incident. Jorah regained consciousness while in the ambulance and being unaware of where he was, he tried to push the hands away of the paramedic as she tried to adjust the oxygen mask on his face.

Unable to see properly, Jorah panicked and tried to pull himself from the stretcher, pleading for the person holding him down to let him go.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he begged, gasping at the pain shooting through his body.

It had taken Daenerys moving herself into his line of sight for him to calm down and allow the paramedics to work on him.

That was over an hour ago and despite a nurse giving her a sympathetic smile and telling her that someone would come and find her as soon as they knew anything, Daenerys was still sat waiting in the room on her own.

“Daenerys Targaryen?” A male voice called from the doorway.

She shot up from her chair instantly, walking over to the young-looking doctor. “That’s me. Is he ok?”

The doctor looked down at his clipboard. “You came in with a…” he paused as he consulted his clipboard again. “Mr. Mormont?”

“Jorah,” Daenerys clarified. “Can I see him?”

She felt a surge of anger as the doctor gave her what she considered a patronising look.

“We’ll take you to him shortly but due to the nature of his injuries, the police will likely want to speak to both of you, although I’m not sure how much Mr. Mormont will be able to tell them given his current state.”

Daenerys looked at the doctor expectantly, feeling frustrated at the lack of information he was giving her.

“What do you mean? He’s ok, isn’t he?”

The doctor motioned for her to sit down. 

“We’ve just had the results of Mr. Mormont’s CT scans and it shows several injuries, mainly broken ribs and the damage to his left arm. Scans show that his wrist is broken as well as several of the smaller bones in the hand itself. He’s concussed and there is significant soft tissue damage and abrasions across his body.”

“But he’ll be ok, though?” Daenerys asked. “He’ll recover?”

“Mr. Mormont will be admitted for at least a few days so we can monitor his head injury and it’s possible that he may need surgery on his arm. He’ll be in significant discomfort from the contusions and abrasions, so we’ll administer pain relief intravenously which will help to keep him comfortable.”

Daenerys could feel the tears welling in her eyes. “Can I see him?”

The doctor stood and motioned for Daenerys to follow him from the room. “He’s very groggy due to the head injury and the pain medication we’re giving him, but he’s been asking for you,” the doctor said as they made their way to a curtained-off area. “We still need to clean him up and put stitches in the gash on his head, so try not to be alarmed by his appearance.

Daenerys nodded her head. She’d been the one to find him, he could hardly look any worse than he had then. She gasped as she saw his swollen features as he lay on the bed. His clothes had been removed and only a thin sheet covered him from the waist down, meaning the bruising across his chest and abdomen was clearly visible. One of Jorah’s eyes was swollen shut and so she went to the side where he would be more likely to see her.

“Jorah,” she whispered, afraid to touch him for fear of causing him more discomfort.

His less damaged eye found her face as he turned toward the sound of her voice. 

“Daenerys?” He croaked, reaching out for her with his good hand.

“I’m here,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You’re going to be ok.”

Jorah shifted in the bed, groaning at the pain it caused him.

“Daenerys…I’m sorry,” he said, his voice slurring as he lost consciousness again.

She ghosted her fingertips across the bruised flesh of his face.

“It’s ok. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

* * *

Daenerys was unable to stay with Jorah after that first brief visit to his bedside and after collecting the keys from his discarded clothes, she made her way back to his flat knowing that he would worry for the kittens being left on their own.

The bus ride across town passed in a blur and Daenerys felt beyond weary as she trudged toward the old Edwardian building. The day had started badly with having to deal with Cersei Lannister, but Daenerys would have traded a whole month with that acidic bitch for the day not to have ended the way it had.

As reached the front door of the building and pulled Jorah’s keys from her pocket, her eyes landed on the dried blood on of her fingers. Biting back a sob, she opened the door and made her way inside the building, leaning back against the hard wooden surface as she finally allowed herself to cry and once she started, she found herself unable to stop as she slid down the door and landed on her backside, sobbing in the dark.

She squinted her eyes and covered them with a hand as the hallway illuminated suddenly. Looking up, she saw a grey-haired lady standing at the top of the stairs looking at her sympathetically.

“You’re the young lady Mr. Mormont has been seeing,” the older woman said as she stood in the doorway. “Is everything quite alright?” She asked.

Daenerys shook her head. “No…he’s hurt…they…the coffee shop.” She let out another sob, aware that she wasn’t making any sense.

“You look like you’ve had a terrible shock,” the old woman said, motioning with her hand for Daenerys to join her. “Come inside and I’ll make you some tea. You can tell me all about it then, ok?”

Climbing the stairs, Daenerys entered the old lady’s apartment, nodding gratefully as she was ushered to the couch as the other woman busied herself making them both a cup of tea.

Daenerys willed her hands to stop shaking as she took the proffered cup and sipped the hot liquid carefully.

“You’re Mrs. Chambers, aren’t you?” Daenerys asked, feeling the warming effects of the tea reaching her empty stomach. “Jorah’s landlady.”

“Call me Dorothy,” the older woman replied. “Mr. Mormont insists on calling me Mrs. Chambers though, no matter how many times I tell him to call me Dorothy.”

Daenerys gave her a watery smile, knowing that Jorah had always be gallant and gentlemanly when it came to women. It was one of the things she found so attractive about him - that he treated women with respect and kindness.

Mrs. Chambers watched as Daenerys finished the last of her tea and placed the empty cup on the coffee table.

“Now dear, start from the beginning and tell me what’s happened to get you into such a state.”

The words came forth in a hurry and for several minutes Daenerys ran through the evening’s events, only pausing to take a breath every now and then.

“And so I came here to make sure the cats were fed. Jorah loves them and I didn’t want him to worry about them, not with everything else that’s going on,” Daenerys finished, her eyes cast to her hands that lay in her lap. “He looks awful, Mrs. Chambers. They really hurt him…what if those robbers come back?”

“I’m sure the police will catch them quickly enough,” Mrs. Chambers replied, trying to reassure her. “And I know Mr. Mormont wouldn’t want you sitting here and fretting about things like that.”

Daenerys ran a shaky hand through her long blonde hair suddenly feeling the weight of the day’s events laying on her heavily. “I’m just so worried about him,” she finished quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

“You care about him a great deal,” Mrs. Chambers observed with a smile. “I wondered who it was that had put a smile on his face. These last few weeks, he’s been happier than I can ever remember him being. Thank you, dear.”

“For what?” Daenerys asked.

“For making him smile,” Mrs. Chambers replied, pouring them both another cup of tea from the pot on the table. “He had such sad eyes when I met him, but I knew he was a good man just by looking at him and when he turned up on my doorstep asking about the apartment downstairs well…I couldn’t turn him away. He looked like he needed some good fortune.”

Daenerys smiled her thanks as she took the fresh cup of tea and sipped at it. “He’s not really told me a lot about his past,” Daenerys said sadly, remembering the many times he’d momentarily zoned out when conversation turned to his past and his family. It was clear to see that his deep blue eyes held many years of sadness within them.

Mrs. Chambers looked at her kindly. “I’m afraid that I don’t know much more than you, my dear, but I do know a good man when I see one.” Mrs. Chambers picked up the biscuit tin and offered it to Daenerys, who took one and nibbled on it delicately. “I had a hip replacement three months ago and Mr. Mormont would come and knock on my door every day during my recovery and would ask me if I needed anything. He’d come home from his shift with some shopping…milk, bread…those kinds of things, and more often than not he would bring me a couple of Danish pastries from the shop he works in.”

Daenerys smiled at the thought. Despite not having known him for all that long, it seemed like an utterly ‘Jorah’ thing for him to do. There was something about his presence that made people feel safe around him, as if he would protect them from anything that tried to cause them harm.

“I don’t even know what he was doing at the coffee shop this evening,” Daenerys frowned. “He’s always worked the early shift, hasn’t he?”

Mrs. Chambers suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable and Daenerys picked up on it immediately.

“What are you not telling me, Mrs. Chambers?”

The older woman hesitated, unsure whether to respond to her question.

“He’s been working double shifts since Christmas,” Mrs. Chambers replied. “You know how gentlemanly Mr. Mormont is, he wants to treat you the way that you deserve.”

No wonder he had always looked so tired and drawn when they’d met for a drink at a local bar. She had put it down to the cats being restless at first, but it was becoming painfully obvious that he was working himself into the ground to try to keep her happy and take her to the types of places she’d become accustomed to throughout her life.

She suddenly realised that had it not been for her, Jorah would never have been at the coffee shop tonight and he would not have been attacked by thieves and left for dead. 

It was all her fault.

“He should have told me,” Daenerys said quietly. “I would have helped him if he was struggling for money.”

Daenerys looked up as Mrs. Chambers snorted softly. “Men are prideful beasts, my dear. He would never hear of it and he would think himself less than worthy of you,” the older lady said as she nibbled on a biscuit. “Mr. Mormont is a good man, but a man, nonetheless. I daresay he would believe you would think less of him because of it.”

“At least let me cover his rent until he’s out of the hospital and back at work,” Daenerys offered.

Mrs. Chambers patted her on the arm. “There will be no need, Mr. Mormont can pay me when he’s able to and besides, it’s been nice having someone in the apartment downstairs and having his presence makes this old lady feel a little safer than she might otherwise. He won’t thank us for it, but you and I will help Mr. Mormont until he’s back up on his feet. What do you say, my dear?”

Daenerys nodded her head eagerly, glad to have an ally against Jorah and the fight he would inevitably put up as the two women fussed around him.

“You have a gentle heart, my dear,” Mrs. Chambers said, draining the last of her tea from the cup. “I’m so happy he’s found you.”


	6. Probing Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any innuendo in the chapter title is completely in your own mind... :)

Daenerys made her way through the myriad of hospital corridors until she finally found the room Jorah was being kept in. One look at his bruised and battered body almost caused Daenerys to start sobbing again, but she had promised herself that she would be strong for him as she woke this morning.

After speaking with Mrs. Chambers and feeding Jorah’s cats, she laid on his bed with the intention of only taking a nap, only waking when the alarm on her phone activated, causing her to sit upright as she took in her surroundings.

The kittens sat on the edge of the bed, watching her before sniffing around the room in search of Jorah. They’d likely never spent a night away from him and had to find his lack of presence strange at the very least.

After feeding the cats their breakfast, she called into work, feigning a croaky voice as she told her boss that she was taking a sick day before grabbing a quick shower and heading back to the hospital in time for visiting hours.

Entering Jorah’s hospital room, Daenerys tried to close the door as quietly as he could, but he seemed to sense her presence and opened his eyes as much as the bruising would allow. He held out his good hand toward her as she made her way to his side.

“You’re ok,” he said, letting out a pained breath.

She gently traced her fingertips across the side of his face, careful not to apply too much pressure for fear of hurting him. 

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to reassure him. “It’s you we’ve been worried about.” She sat down at his bedside. “When I found you… I thought you were dead.”

He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth at the pain he caused himself. “I was so worried they’d hurt you,” he said in a breathy gasp. “I don’t know what I would have done - “

She silenced him by gently placing her finger on his bruised and split lips. 

“They were gone by the time I got there,” she assured him. “They must have taken the money and - “

Her words were cut off by a knock at the door as a middle-aged stern-looking man poked his head around the door.

“Excuse the disturbance, Mr. Mormont,” the man said as he entered the room, closely followed by another one. Their faded suits and grim expressions giving away the fact that both of them were police officers. “The nurses said you were more coherent this morning.”

“What can we do for you, officers?” Daenerys said, trying to block Jorah from their view, finding herself increasingly protective of him while he was in such a vulnerable state.

“It’s detective, actually,” the man replied arrogantly. “Detective Sergeant Baratheon,” he continued, “and this is my colleague Detective Constable Seaworth.”

At least the other man seemed mildly uncomfortable at the lack of pleasantries. Both were easily in their late forties or early fifties with thinning hair and scruffy beards.

“Pardon the intrusion,” the detective constable said, clearly trying to smooth relations after his colleague’s rather blunt introduction. “We were hoping to ask Mr. Mormont a few questions about last night,” he said in a strong Geordie accent. “And yourself too, Miss…”

“Targaryen,” she said, feeling slightly easier around the junior detective. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Perhaps it’s better if we speak to you separately,” the detective constable suggested, motioning for Daenerys to follow him through to the corridor. 

She glanced back at Jorah worriedly, not wanting to leave him on his own. He nodded his head gingerly and smiled as much as his damaged face would allow him to, signalling that she should follow the kinder of the two detectives. She did so reluctantly and quietly closed the door behind her as she left.

The detective opened his notepad and clicked his pen, looking up at Daenerys to ask his first question.

“You’re the one who found him, is that correct?”

Daenerys nodded her head, trying to keep the horrible images of Jorah lying unconscious on the ground at bay.

The detective scribbled something on his notepad. “You didn’t see anyone leave the shop before you entered?”

Daenerys shook her head. “I’d arranged to meet Jorah after his shift at the coffee shop.”

The detective nodded and wrote something else on his notepad. “Does Mr. Mormont usually work the evening shift?”

Daenerys felt her cheeks flush with shame. Jorah’s landlady had let slip yesterday that he’d been working double shifts since Christmas. If it hadn’t been for his need to try to impress her, he wouldn’t have ended up being the victim of such a violent robbery last night.

“Only recently,” she answered, keeping her gaze on the ground.

“So you’re the only one who knew he would be there?”

Her eyes shot up to look at the detective. “What are you implying, that I had something to do with this?” She shouted, not caring who would hear her. “You should be out there finding the people who robbed the shop last night!”

The detective seemed to take her anger in his stride as he closed his notepad and looked at her.

“That’s the thing, Miss. Targaryen,” he replied with a frown. “The day’s takings were still in the till and from what we can see, nothing of any value was taken.”

It didn’t make sense. Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said, pushing the hair that had fallen down in her anger from her forehead.

The detective placed his pen and pad back in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “The nature of Mr. Mormont’s injuries suggest that someone took their time attacking him. It speaks of a personal motive against the victim.”

Daenerys winced at the word ‘victim’.

“Do you know if Mr. Mormont has any enemies?” The detective asked.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Daenerys replied quickly. 

Having only known Jorah for a few short weeks, Daenerys was sure that he was a good man and certainly not the type to involve himself in anything criminal or violent. From what she’d seen of him, it was in his nature to be kind and gentle, his adoption of the kittens and caring for Mrs. Chambers after her surgery were proof of that.

“Are you sure you know Mr. Mormont as well as you think you do?”

Daenerys made her way to the door of Jorah’s room, feeling her anger boil over once more. There was no way that she was going to stand their listening to such bullshit about Jorah.

Opening the door, she saw Jorah grit his teeth as the senior detective leaned over him menacingly.

“We know this wasn’t a robbery gone wrong, Mormont,” the bearded man said. “So why don’t you cut the crap and do your duty, eh?”

The way the man spoke to Jorah made it sound as if he knew him.

“I told you,” Jorah replied. “They wore masks. I didn’t see who they were.”

“But you heard them,” the detective countered. “The CCTV footage shows your attackers taking their time and I’m sure they were telling you all the things they were going to do to you.”

“I can’t help you,” Jorah replied, letting out a pained breath.

The detective sneered at him. “Loyalty won’t save you now, Mormont. Maybe you should have thought of that a few years ago.” The detective nodded to his partner, signalling that he was finished with Jorah for now. “Shit happens when your past finally catches up with you, doesn’t it?”

“Get out!” Jorah growled at him, his breath coming in short gasps.

The detective let out a humourless laugh. “We’ll be seeing you around, Mormont. And I’ll be letting your father know that you’re in town. I’m sure he’ll want to know that the prodigal son has finally resurfaced again.”

“Ok, time for you to leave,” a stern-looking nurse said as she stood in the doorway. “Mr. Mormont needs to rest and you lot aren’t helping.”

The senior detective gave the nurse a snide smile before calling over his shoulder to Jorah. “Be seeing you around, Mormont.”

“And you too,” the nurse said, adjusting the drip by Jorah’s bed and making a note on the chart. “All of this excitement isn’t doing his recovery any good.”

Daenerys’ gaze fell on Jorah, her heart breaking at the amount of pain that he appeared to be in.

“No,” he gasped, reaching out his hand for her. “She stays,” he said through gritted teeth. “Please.”

The nurse didn’t look convinced and pursed her lips. “I’ll be keeping an eye on your vital signs from the nurses' station. Any more fuss and she’s leaving,” she replied. “Do we have an understanding?”

Daenerys pulled a chair over to Jorah’s bedside. “Understood.”

Feeling as if she’d made her point sufficiently, the nurse nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Are you ok?” Daenerys asked, her thumb stroking the back of Jorah’s uninjured hand.

He let out a pained breath. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly.

“About Starsky and Hutch?” She replied. “Don’t be. You weren’t the one being an arsehole.” Jorah nodded his head, groaning as his bruised body complained at the movement. “That Baratheon guy was a dick. I’ve half a mind to make a complaint about him. You’re the victim in this and he’s treating you like a criminal.”

Anger seeped into her voice with each word that fell from her mouth. How dare that Dirty Harry wannabe come in here and treat Jorah like he’d done something wrong?

“No, fuck it. I’m going to call the police right now. There’s no way they’re going to get away with treating you like shit.”

Mind made up, Daenerys pulled her phone from her purse and began dialling before Jorah stopped her.

“Daenerys, don’t,” he pleaded with her.

“No Jorah, they can’t get away with pulling this crap. It ends now. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Daenerys, you can’t.”

Not to be deterred, Daenerys continued with her tirade. 

“Who does he think he is, coming in here and talking like he knows anything about you?” It took all of her self-control to lower her voice to a more acceptable level as she found herself getting increasingly angry on Jorah’s behalf.

Jorah let out another pained breath. “That’s because he does,” he replied.

“He does what?” Daenerys asked, clearly confused.

“He does know me,” he whispered, the shame clear in his voice. “He knows all about me and the things I’ve done.”

It hit Daenerys then that perhaps she didn’t know Jorah as well as she thought she did. Suddenly, his reluctance to talk about his past began to make sense. He wouldn’t be the first seemingly nice guy to turn out to be a nasty piece of work underneath the surface.

How many times had she found herself in relationships with men who promised her a world of riches and passion only to find debt and heartbreak in its place. But Jorah was different, wasn’t he?

She could have stormed from the room but his reluctance to make eye contact with her and the dejected look on his face made her pause. He deserved a chance to explain, at least.

Placing her phone back in her bag, Daenerys made herself comfortable in the chair.

“Then you best start explaining, Jorah,” she said, her arms crossed. “And don’t leave anything out."


	7. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Jorah to confess as to what happened in his past...

Jorah gulped, taking a deep breath and wincing at the pain it caused his ribs. How would he ever be able to explain himself in a way that wouldn’t scare her off for good?

“I wasn’t always a barista,” Jorah began, his eyes cast toward his battered hands. “I used to work for an investment company.”

“Doing what?” Daenerys asked, her tone more abrupt than she intended.

She hadn’t expected such a turn of events when she made her way to the hospital this morning and part of her felt as if she had the right to be a little annoyed with Jorah right now.

He winced at her abrupt question. 

“It was my job to oversee the investment bankers…to make sure that they were investing customer’s funds in the right way. We had a lot of high-earning customers who wanted to know that their money was being looked after.”

Daenerys ran a hand through her hair. “Then what went wrong?” She asked, her tone still forceful.

Jorah refused to look at her for fear of seeing rejection in her eyes.

“My ex-wife…I met her at a work function,” he said, screwing his eyes shut and feeling glad for the pain it caused him. Anything was preferable than the pain of Lynesse’s betrayal. “She was the daughter of one of our biggest clients. We dated for a while and then I asked her to marry me. Things were ok for a while…but…” he trailed off.

“But what, Jorah?”

Jorah tried to lift his hand to his head only for the pain of his injuries to stop him.

“She was high-maintenance, but I knew that from the start. A few years after we married, she would complain that I spent too much time at work…that I didn’t pay her enough attention. She even accused me of cheating on her with another woman.”

Even after his startling revelation about his hidden past, Daenerys was sure that Jorah was not the type of man to have an affair behind his wife’s back. She didn’t take him for the cheating kind.

“She said that I didn’t spend enough time with her and that if I loved her, I’d take her on exotic holidays and shower her with gifts.” He gripped the hospital bedsheet with his good hand at the painful memories of Lynesse and their final months together. “So I did what she wanted. I did it because I loved her, and I wanted to make her happy.”

His final statement, more than anything, spoke to Jorah’s true nature. He wasn’t a bad man or a criminal, just a fool in love, and who hadn’t been there before?

“I don’t get where the police come into all of this,” Daenerys said, her tone softening now. “What happened?”

“I spent less time at work,” Jorah replied, feeling ashamed for letting things get so out of hand in the first place. “I trusted that my team knew what they were doing and so I started to take my eye off the ball. I took Lynesse to all the parties she wanted to go to. I took her on the expensive holidays she wanted.” He looked up at Daenerys briefly before continuing. “I was running a regular audit in the office one day when I noticed some anomalies.”

“What kind of anomalies?”

“Some of our client’s money wasn’t where it should have been. The numbers on the accounts didn’t add up. Either someone had made a mistake or there was something dodgy going on. I followed the money and found out that several of my team had been misappropriating client’s funds, syphoning off some of the profit and sending it to offshore accounts.”

Daenerys was confused. “But you had nothing to do with it, right?”

Jorah shook his head, groaning at the dizziness it caused him.

“It makes no difference in the eyes of the law. I was their supervisor and I’d let it go on underneath my nose. I was just as complicit as them for letting it happen in the first place. As far as the law was concerned, my negligence was criminal.”

“That can’t be right,” Daenerys replied. 

“It might not be right, but it’s the law and I was looking at a prison sentence for my part in it.”

“Did you go to prison?” Daenerys asked, not certain that she wanted to know the answer.

“No,” Jorah replied softly. “I reported the people responsible to the police. My lawyer was able to cut a deal - that I would testify and help the authorities track down the missing money in return for a suspended jail sentence. I was looking at least five years in prison for criminal negligence of a fraudulent act. I sold my colleagues out to save myself and stay out of prison.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Daenerys said, chewing on her bottom lip and feeling bad that Jorah had somehow managed to get himself mixed up in such a mess.

He looked at her then and she could clearly see the sadness in his eyes.

“I could have stuck by my colleagues and take what was coming to me, but I chose to let them take the fall instead. They all got lengthy sentences and I walked out of that court room a free man. I consoled myself that Lynesse would stand by me and that we could start over again somewhere else. It was pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome in the city anymore and that I should turn tail and run if I knew what was good for me.”

“They threatened you?” Daenerys asked.

Jorah nodded his head as much as his bruised and battered flesh would allow him to. “I didn’t want Lynesse to get caught up in my mess, but the day after the trial ended…she told me that she was leaving…that she’d been seeing someone else for months,” he said bitterly. “I’d spent what money I had on keeping her happy and paying my lawyer…his counsel didn’t come cheap. She took anything that was valuable and left me a note telling me that she wouldn’t be coming back.”

“So how does that detective know you?” Daenerys asked as she tried to digest what she’d just been told.

“Stannis Baratheon used to be a Detective Chief Inspector and he was involved in building the case against my colleagues. Some people weren’t happy that I’d been able to cut a deal and there were rumours that Baratheon’s cards were marked as far as the top brass were concerned. He was busted down to a Detective Sergeant after the trial and he made it pretty clear that he thought it was my fault and he told me that if the vigilantes didn’t chase me out of town, that he would make it his goal that he did.”

“So you left?”

Jorah’s head dropped further to his chest, weighed down by the sense of shame he felt.

“I was a coward and so I ran,” he replied. “I should have stayed and faced whatever they were going to throw at me but…I ran away instead. I’ve been running ever since.”

“So it wasn’t a robbery?” Daenerys asked quietly. “You know who attacked you?”

Again, he refused to look at her for fear of what he might find lingering in her gaze.

“It was the son of one of my old colleagues,” he answered. “He came into the shop yesterday afternoon and must have recognised me. He waited until I closed the shop - “

“You have to tell the police who did this to you,” Daenerys shot back. “You didn’t deserve this.”

The steel in her voice sparked the tiniest ember of hope that perhaps he hadn’t blown things with her entirely. He dared to look at her, hoping that she would understand why he couldn’t turn his attackers into the police. It would achieve nothing but making the same mistakes over again.

“I can’t,” Jorah said. “It’ll only make things worse. They’ve made their point…let’s just leave it at that.”

“And what if they haven’t?” Daenerys replied, shooting to her feet and pacing the small hospital room. “What if they come back again?”

“I just have to hope they won’t.”

“Hope?” She replied, incredulously. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

Jorah reached his hand out to her. “Daenerys, please.” 

“Or are you going to resort to plan B and run away again?”

The fierce look she gave him was enough to cause him to shrink back against the pillow of the bed. She made her way to the door and ignored his pleas for her to stay.

“I don’t think I should be here right now. I need some time to think.”

He watched her go, the pain of her leaving far worse than anything Rickard and his men had subjected him to.

* * *

_“I hereby sentence you to ten years imprisonment where you will serve at least two thirds of your sentence.”_

_His heart thudded as the judge banged his gavel on the desk._

_It had all gone wrong._

_So horribly wrong._

_He could feel their accusing eyes boring into him as he was led from the courtroom in handcuffs._

_“Murderer!” They shouted, spitting curses at him._

_“They should bring back hanging for animals like you,” another shouted before screaming in his face. “What kind of man beats and kills his wife?”_

_There was no point in trying to appease them, to claim his innocence. It didn’t matter that he was being set up. It was a punishment he deserved. For too long he had had evaded justice and it had only been a matter of time before his past caught up with him. He was guilty of a crime, that was certain._

_Just not this one._

_He would take their spitting and their cursing. He would take it all if it meant that she wouldn’t look upon him with hatred. She was the one person who truly knew him for the man he was. She saw behind the lies and the mistakes he’d made. She saw him as a good man who had made bad choices. She loved him, didn’t she?_

_“Get him out of my sight,” she scowled, looking upon him with distain before walking from the court room, ignoring his pleas for her forgiveness._

_They dragged him away as he called out after her. Nothing but the deafening silence of the woman he adored greeted him in return._

His eyes sprang open as his chest heaved, the heart monitor beside Jorah’s bed registering his distress as it bleeped incessantly.

“Hey,” a familiar voice crooned. “It’s ok, you’re safe,” it said as a soft hand ran gently through his sweaty hair.

He was still stuck in his nightmare, he had to be. 

Daenerys had stormed out of his room hours ago.

He screwed his one good eye shut and was certain she’d be gone when he opened it again.

“Daenerys?” He said, daring to hope that she was real.

She nodded her head before looking over her shoulder at the same nurse who’d entered his room earlier in the day.

“He’s ok, he just had a bad dream,” Daenerys said before turning attention back to him. “Do you need something for the pain, Jorah?” she asked softly as she looked him over.

He shook his head; no painkiller would ever soothe the pain in his heart. Besides, it was no more than he deserved for being a coward and selling out his friends to save himself.

The nurse looked at her patient and seemed to be satisfied that she was being told the truth. She nodded her head stiffly and shut the door behind her.

“You came back,” Jorah whispered, trying to find a more comfortable position in the bed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I ran out like that,” Daenerys replied, frowning at her momentary fit of anger. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He reached for her with his good hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away.

“You had every right to. I should have told you the truth from the start. I’m sorry.”

He suddenly felt the urge to cry and knew that doing so would only make him seem weaker in her eyes. He bit on his swollen lower lip to keep the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you,” she responded, brushing her thumb gently over his bruised cheek. “The past few days have just been a lot to process, that’s all.”

“You can leave, you know,” Jorah said quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

He felt her grip the fingers of his uninjured hand, squeezing them gently as she spoke. “Hey, we’ll figure this out together, ok?”

A tear fell from his eyes before he could stop it, wondering for all the world what he had done to deserve someone like Daenerys in his life.


	8. Home

“Here,” Daenerys said as she thrust a couple of £20 notes to the cab driver before grabbing Jorah’s holdall and opening the car door. “Keep the change. Get yourself an eye test with it too,” she suggested, helping Jorah from his side of the vehicle.

Jorah opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. In the space of only a few hours, Daenerys had given several people a piece of her mind, including the doctor at the hospital who reluctantly agreed to let Jorah go home after four nights spent cooped up in a cramped hospital room.

She arrived this morning with a change of clothes and helped him get dressed, even going so far as to tie his shoelaces for him. He argued that he could do it himself only for his broken ribs to scream in agony when he attempted to bend down.

After being given a final once-over by the doctor, he was allowed to leave and Daenerys glued herself to his side, providing a level of physical support that his ego told him was unnecessary. Daenerys was in full-on protective mode and a part of him felt secretly pleased that she seemed to care so much about him and his wellbeing and he was glad of her guiding him the steps to his home as his body protested at the movement.

“Mr. Mormont, it is so good to see you,” Mrs. Chambers, his landlady, said as she stood at the foot of the stairs of her old Edwardian house.

He smiled as much as his bruised face would allow, giving a quick glance to Daenerys who stood beside him, holdall in hand.

“My apologies for any fuss I might have caused,” Jorah began, only to be cut off by Mrs. Chambers.

“Nonsense,” she said dismissively. “I shall hear nothing of the sort.” She made her way over to him, placing one of her weathered hands on his battered cheek. “You poor boy, look what they did to you.”

He tolerated the elderly woman’s affections as she looked him over sadly before adding. “The lovely Miss. Targaryen and I have been looking after the cats for you, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to see that you’re home.”

Home.

Before the night of the attack, Jorah had begun to think of this place as home, which made it all the harder to think that he would likely have to move on. Not for his sake, but for the safety of the two women standing in front of him. They didn’t deserve to get messed up in his fractious past.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Jorah said, shaking himself from his melancholic thoughts. “I’ll pay you back for any expense they might have put you to.”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Chambers tutted before smiling at Daenerys. “I’ll leave you two to get settled. Your dinner is warming in the oven.”

Jorah opened his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, but Mrs. Chambers had already turned and started making her way back up the stairs.

Jorah heard the distinctive meow of the kittens as Daenerys held the door open for him. He shuffled into the room as the cats wound their way through his legs, rubbing their scent all over him as they purred in delight.

“You can have your cuddles,” Daenerys told the cats as she placed the holdall on the bed. “But let your daddy sit down first, ok?”

Slightly disappointed, the cats waited until Jorah lowered himself painfully to the couch before they jumped in his lap and rubbed themselves over every area of their owner they could find.

“I’ve missed you too,” he told the cats, stroking them as they continued to fidget and move in his lap before making themselves comfortable and settling down.

“Coffee?” Daenerys asked from the kitchen. “It’s just the instant stuff but even I can’t mess that up,” she said with a smile, echoing a similar conversation they had on Christmas Day.

He smiled his thanks at her as the cats closed their eyes, sitting and purring quietly in his lap. “That would be great.”

As she rifled through the cupboards, Daenerys could see that Mrs. Chambers had gone to some expense to fill his cupboard and fridge with enough food for at least a week. Jorah would probably be annoyed when he found out, but he would just have to grin and bear it. She and Mrs. Chambers would tag team him into submission if they had to.

After making their drinks, Daenerys walked back through to the living room to find Jorah staring into space, stroking each cat in turn with his uninjured arm. 

The doctor had advised that the bones in his wrist and hand should heal without the need for surgery, but that Jorah would not even be able to think about returning to work for at least a couple of weeks. He’d glowered at the doctor and mumbled something under his breath about ‘going stir crazy’ if he had to sit at home doing nothing. Judging by the pain the short journey from the hospital had caused him, it was likely that he wouldn’t be able to move from his current position any time soon.

“Here you go,” Daenerys said, handing him the steaming cup of coffee as he winced at the movement.

Daenerys rifled through her handbag until she located the paper bag of medications the hospital had supplied Jorah with upon his discharge. She made her way back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before popping three of the pain pills from their packet and returning to the couch.

He looked at her dubiously and opened his mouth to say something. The look she gave him told him it would not be good to argue with her. Placing the coffee down, he took the pills obediently from her and swallowed them down with the water.

“You probably have better things to do than be sitting here with me,” Jorah said, taking an exploratory sip of his coffee, relieved when the hot liquid didn’t sting at his split lip. He was giving her an ‘out’ and hoped she would take it. She was a beautiful young woman who shouldn’t be sat babysitting a fully-grown man who could look after himself.

“I took the whole week off,” she replied, taking a sip of her own coffee. “They aren’t expecting me back in until Monday now.”

Jorah frowned. It wasn’t the response he was hoping for. He wanted to sit in the dark on his own and brood. The pain caused by the beating was already enough to take his thoughts down a dark path and having to put on an act to Daenerys required more energy than he had right about now.

“You don’t need to stay here on my account,” he said quietly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

“I want to,” she replied.

He shook his head. “I can manage on my own,” he said gruffly, knowing full well that he couldn’t, yet his pride as well as his body had taken a battering these past few days.

The force with which she thumped her coffee down on the table took Jorah by surprise.

“Fine,” she said, sharply. “Take your shoes off then,” she challenged him, looking down at his trainers and knowing that he’d find it impossible in his current state. She waited until his expression changed to one of resigned defeat before kneeling on the floor and removing them.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, feeling ashamed at his helplessness.

“Do what?” She countered. “Help someone I…” she stopped herself before the word could fall unbidden from her lips. “Help someone I care about,” she finished after an awkward pause. “Quit it with the macho bullshit already. You’re not impressing anyone, especially me.”

He hung his head slightly. “I’m sure there are better things you could be doing with your time.”

“What I do with my time is my business,” she said, her tone blunt. “I’m here because I want to be, so you’re just going to have to shut up and accept it.”

He would have shaken his head if he had the energy, but he could already feel the painkillers start to take effect. Never had he met a woman quite like Daenerys Targaryen - a woman who was sassy, argumentative, quick to anger and downright stubborn. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, knowing that the closer he got the higher the chance that he’d burn under her fiery gaze and he would let her lead him to his destruction willingly.

Seemingly satisfied that she’d made her point, Daenerys smiled at him triumphantly. “Now shut up and take it like a man,” she said, pulling the shoes from his feet.

* * *

She’d been content to watch Jorah doze for a number of hours and was toying with the idea of waking him to guide him to the much more comfortable surroundings of his bed when a knock at the door brought Jorah rudely awake. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the groan falling from his lips at the sudden movement.

Daenerys was up on her feet before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“I’ll get it,” she said in a tone that dared him to argue the point with her.

He relaxed back into the sofa with a resigned sigh.

Daenerys was surprised as she opened the door to find one of the detectives who’d come to the hospital standing on the other side.

“What do you want?” Daenerys barked, still in full-on protective mode.

“A little bird told me Mr. Mormont was discharged from the hospital today,” Detective Constable Seaworth began. “I was hoping I might be able to ask him a few questions.” The detective peered over Daenerys’ shoulder hopefully.

“Where’s Dirty Harry?” She asked with a scowl.

The insult brought a smile to the detective’s lips. “He’s waiting in the car,” he replied with a chuckle. It was almost enough for Daenerys to begin warming to the man. “DS Baratheon’s not all that big on small talk and I know there’s some history between him and Mr. Mormont. My job is to investigate a crime and bring the perpetrators to justice. I’m not interested in what might have happened years ago.”

Despite her better judgement, there was some about Detective Seaworth that seemed honourable, with his weathered features and greying beard hiding the man’s seemingly benign nature.

The detective held up the folder he was carrying, gesturing to it as he spoke. “I have some photos of potential suspects that I’d like Mr. Mormont to have a look at,” he said. “If he’s feeling up to it, of course.”

Daenerys looked the detective up and down, searching for any sign of that he might be lying to her. 

Finally, she relented and stood aside, allowing the detective to enter Jorah’s small apartment. “You have twenty minutes,” she warned him. “You give him any hassle and you’re out of here, is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Detective Seaworth replied.

Jorah looked up as Daenerys and the detective made their way into the living area.

“What do you want?” Jorah growled, grimacing as he pushed himself fully upright on the couch.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Mormont?” The detective began congenially.

Having grown up with a father who’d made his way up through the ranks of the police force, Jorah was well versed in every trick in an investigators book. Get the subject on side…make them feel comfortable…wait for your moment to strike…

Well, it wasn’t going to work on him.

“Let’s just cut the crap, ok?” Jorah replied. “Do what you have to and then leave me alone.”

The detective let the harsh words wash over him. “I have a few photos for you to look over, if you don’t mind?”

Jorah narrowed his eyes at the man. “Of what?”

“Potential suspects,” Seaworth replied.

“I told you, I didn’t see their faces. They were wearing masks.”

The detective would not be deterred as he rifled through the folder and picked out a number of photos. “You know as well as I do that we have to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s, so to speak.”

Jorah waved his good hand in defeat. “Fine. Show me your photos then leave me alone.”

Jorah shook his head several times as Detective Seaworth held up a number of photos in turn, knowing it was only a matter of time before he held Rickard Umber’s picture up. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the small twitch of his facial features when he saw his attacker smiling smugly into the camera.

It hadn’t been missed by the wily detective either. “You recognise this man?” He asked.

“No,” Jorah lied.

“Are you sure you’ve never seen him before?”

“No,” Jorah ground out between gritted teeth. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”

The detective nodded his head as he chose another photograph and held it up. “You served him coffee on the same day the attack took place.”

Again, the merest twitch pulled at Jorah’s expression. It wasn’t missed by Daenerys either, who peered over the detective’s shoulder at the name ‘Rickard Umber’ written on the back of the photo, consigning it to her memory.

“I don’t remember,” Jorah lied. “I barely remember getting out of bed that day.”

Daenerys could see the effect looking at the man’s photo was having on Jorah. Injured and pumped full of pain medication, her lover was doing a poor job of hiding his reaction to the man she began to realise was the chief protagonist in the attack on him.

“Ok, detective,” she said, motioning him to the door. “That’s enough. Time to leave.”

Detective Seaworth nodded as he got to his feet. “Here’s my card,” he said as he held it out to Jorah. “Give me a call if you remember anything that you think might help.”

Jorah ignored him and stared straight ahead.

Daenerys took the card instead as she opened the door.

“If you can think of anything that will help track his attackers down, please let me know.”

Daenerys nodded her head, having no intention of doing so. She would find out more about Rickard Umber and deal with things her way instead.


	9. Pride and Benevolence

“Daenerys,” Jorah said, answering the insistent knock at his door. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled as he stood aside and let her in, proudly lifting the bottle of champagne in her hands.

“A little bird told me it’ll be your first day back at work tomorrow,” she said conspiratorially, making her way into his small kitchen, her presence as natural as if she had been living there for months.

Jorah hung his head in defeat, glancing up to give Daenerys a shy smile. It was useless trying to argue with her. Daenerys would always get her way whether he liked it or not.

He took the proffered glass from Daenerys and smiled his thanks, taking a sip of the liquid.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve ever celebrated working a shift at the coffee shop,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

Daenerys shook her head. “It’s the first day of the rest of your life. You can put all this shit behind you and finally move on.”

As much as he might like to think that was true, Rickard Umber and his friends were still out there somewhere and although they’d not bothered him since the night of the attack, he knew it was highly unlikely that would be the last he’d see of them.

Daenerys was looking at him, hope shining in her eyes and he wanted more than anything not to douse those flames. There was only so long that he could spend hiding away in his tiny little flat, pretending that everything was ok. It was only a matter of time before he’d have to move on again.

Despite his insistence that he was fine, and that Daenerys had better things to do with her time, she had been a near constant presence in his life these past few weeks. Several nights she stayed over and on others she would call and text regularly to check on him. Combined with Mrs. Chambers continued fussing over him, he found their attentions a little claustrophobic at times.

Tomorrow would be the first day he’d return to the coffee shop where the attack had happened and Jorah would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t a little nervous about it. Truth be told, he was surprised that he still had a job after the trouble he caused the owner, but Tyrion Lannister had assured him that he’d have a job to come back to when he was ready.

Although a member of the infamous Lannister family, Tyrion was, on the outside at least, far from the money-grabbing, soulless monster his father Tywin was famed for. Using his father’s money, Tyrion had set up his first coffee shop over twenty years ago and his empire had slowly built to several dozen shops all across the country. With his ethically sourced coffee beans and penchant for taking on staff who had nowhere else to go, he’d built a reputation as somewhat of a philanthropist.

“What can I say, I have a soft spot for bastards and broken things,” Tyrion had told Jorah the day he’d offered him a job. “No one ever sticks up for the little guy anymore.”

“Are you looking forward to it?” Daenerys asked him, shaking Jorah from his reverie.

He took another sip of his champagne, stalling for time. “It’ll be nice to see something other than these four walls, that’s for sure.”

“The cats will miss you not being here,” Daenerys observed, watching the two small animals winding their way through their father’s legs and purring. “They’ve got used to having their daddy all to themselves.”

He laughed at that. “Yeah, but it’ll be nice to bring in an honest wage again,” he said quietly, looking at the floor.

Much to Jorah’s surprise and chagrin, Tyrion had knocked on his door a few days after his release from hospital with an envelope filled with cash.

“This is for you, Mormont,” the small man told him as he handed it to him.

Perhaps it had been the effects of the concussion, but Jorah couldn’t fathom why his boss was standing on his doorstep handing over a wad of cash.

“What do you mean?” Jorah asked.

“It’s your wages, Mormont,” Tyrion replied, as if he were talking to small and somewhat dim child.

“But I haven’t earned any.”

Tyrion let out a sigh, shaking his head at the man’s obstinate nature. “Call it occupational sick pay,” he replied, thrusting the envelope into Jorah’s hands. “And a little extra from our customers. They’ve been asking about you constantly.”

Jorah scowled at him, his eyes narrowing as much as the swelling on his face would allow. “You told them what happened?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Of course not, that would be bad for business. I merely massaged some of the details into something that would pull on the customers heartstrings,” the small man said. “I told them you’d been knocked off your bike,” Tyrion continued, glancing at bicycle in the hallway, “by a drunk driver, no less. You wouldn’t believe how many of our female patrons have been slipping money into the collection jar for the ‘sexy barista with the beard’.” Tyrion gave him a wan smile. “And I don’t think it was me they were talking about.”

“I don’t want it,” Jorah growled. “Take your money and go.”

Tyrion would not be deterred. “Fine, I’ll give it to your nice old landlady upstairs to cover your rent then, shall I?”

“Fine,” Jorah grumbled, snatching the envelope and shoving it into his trouser pocket.

“A little free advice?” Tyrion said over his shoulder as he walked away. “Foolish is the man who covets pride over benevolence.”

Those words had been ringing in Jorah’s ears ever since.

Daenerys wrapped her arms around him, looking up at his face. “Tomorrow night I’m taking you out to celebrate,” she said. “My treat,” she added as she saw Jorah open his mouth to object. “Now,” she said, taking the glass of champagne from his hand and undoing the buttons of his shirt. “I think you need one last physical check-over before you’re fit enough to return to work.”

She took his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

* * *

“Where exactly are we going?” Jorah asked as he met Daenerys at the train station that evening.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Just a little place I know that does the best Eastern food you’ve ever tasted.”

Jorah winced. It would no doubt be a high-end, expensive restaurant that he could ill afford on his paltry wages. Daenerys was probably accustomed to the finer things in life and even though she’d insist on paying tonight, he would need to reciprocate in kind at some point.

She must have noticed his discomfort. “You do like Eastern food, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly, it was just the expense he didn’t like.

She looped her arm through his as they walked to the platform, her head resting on his shoulder.

“How was your first day back?” She asked.

“It was nothing exciting,” he answered her with a shrug. He was going to kill Tyrion the next time he saw him though.

He only had a rough idea what Tyrion said to their customers during his absence, but if one more customer had looked at him with pity and concern in their eyes, he would have torn his apron off and stormed out. 

Most of the shop’s regular customers insisted on leaving him a tip and he was forced to accept them to avoid looking ungrateful. It ate at him how disingenuous it felt, knowing that his predicament was entirely his own fault.

“Did they take it easy on you today?” Daenerys asked as they stood on the platform waiting for their train to arrive.

He shrugged his shoulders again, wincing at the pain of his still-bruised muscles. Though much of the discolouration had faded, Jorah still felt the ache deep within his bones.

“Trying to make a cappuccino one-handed is certainly an experience,” Jorah replied, trying to lighten his own dour mood. It would do him no good to brood on things he had no control over.

“So things were ok, then?” Daenerys prompted as they boarded the train.

Jorah relaxed as they found an empty carriage, realising that he’d been far too jumpy already today. Despite his best efforts, visions of the night of the attack still played on his mind all too often, and especially when he was least expecting them.

He found himself back in the coffee shop that night, remembering the force of Rickard Umber barrelling into him and knocking him to the floor…kicking him…beating him…

“Jorah?”

“Jorah?” Daenerys said, louder this time.

He came back to his senses suddenly, surprised to find Daenerys looking at him with some concern.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the memory. 

He wasn’t going to let Rickard and his thugs ruin the one good thing in his life, he told himself as he looked at her innocent face.

* * *

Daenerys smirked as she watched Jorah finish the last of his meal, surprised at how well he handled the cutlery with the use of only one hand.

“Well, what’s your verdict?” She asked him, taking a sip of her wine.

He placed his cutlery down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You’re right. It was delicious,” he replied. “How did you discover this place?”

Daenerys nodded towards a dark-skinned woman with curly black hair who stood in the corner of the room. “Missandei runs this place. I’ve known her since forever….we went to college together.”

Missandei caught her friend’s glance and walked over to the table, collecting their plates.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” Missandei asked.

“You know that you don’t even need to ask that. It was divine,” Daenerys replied.

“You must be Jorah,” Missandei said, reaching for his empty plate. “Daenerys has told me a great deal about you.”

He blushed and handed it to her. “All good, I hope?” He said half-heartedly.

Daenerys rose from her chair and smirked. “I’ll be back in a moment, don’t you two start talking about me...”

“Let me just get rid of these,” Missandei said, returning a few moments later with a dessert menu which she handed to Jorah.

“Well, this isn’t awkward, is it?” Jorah mumbled, running his good hand over his beard.

“She likes you a lot,” Missandei said, her hands clasped together in front of her.

Jorah wasn’t sure he wanted to be having this conversation with a woman he barely knew, but he’d have to get to know her friends at some point, he figured.

“I like her too,” he responded, his answer deliberately vague.

He caught Missandei looking down at the cast on his arm. “She was so upset about what happened to you. It really shook her up.”

Jorah opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Missandei holding a hand up to halt him.

“Daenerys has a gentle heart and all too often the men she cared about have broken it. She has a habit of picking men with a troubled past. Forgive me for being so direct,” Missandei said as she saw her friend making her way back to the table. “Whatever trouble you’re in, please don’t get her involved in it… If you care about her, I know you’ll do the right thing.”

* * *

“Is everything alright?” Daenerys asked as they stood outside the restaurant. 

Jorah had been pensive and quiet over desert and it hadn’t escaped Daenerys’ attention.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to sound relaxed as he pulled up the zip on his coat. “It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

He felt Daenerys walk her fingers up his jacket and across his cheek before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be too tired for a drink back at mine?”

She looked at him hopefully.

“The cats,” he said by way of an excuse, realising how lame it made him sound.

“Mrs. Chambers can feed them,” she replied, kissing him again.

“My shift - “

“Isn’t until tomorrow afternoon,” she answered, her tongue begging for entry to his mouth. “Any more excuses you wanna run by me?” She said between kisses before grabbing his hand and walking him down the street.

He followed, knowing that he didn’t stand a chance of ever being able to say no to her.


	10. Second Thoughts

Jorah woke suddenly in a bed that wasn’t his own. For one horrible moment, he thought he was back in the hospital after Rickard and his heavies had meted out their own brand of justice on him.

His eyes fell on the beautiful young woman lying next to him, a smile on her face and enjoying what Jorah hoped was a pleasant dream.

He let out a shaky breath and climbed out the bed as quietly as he could, careful not to wake Daenerys from her slumber, trying to keep his groans as quiet as possible as he bent down to retrieve his clothes that were flung out haphazardly across the bedroom the night before.

Her friend’s words had stung him more than he wanted to admit and perhaps the girl was right. Perhaps it was better to cut things off with Daenerys before they got too serious.

Who was he kidding? He was completely enamoured with her already.

It had always been his weakness to love too strongly, too fast. His father warned him as much when he was a teenager and had his heart broken for the first time.

“The things we love destroy us, every time,” his father said.

If only he’d heeded those warnings, so much of the horror in his life might not have come to pass.

Perhaps if those wise words had come from anyone but his father, he might have listened to them. His father had always been absent at best and Jorah realised that they would never be close after the death of his mother, something that he knew his father still blamed him for.

If only he had stayed at home that day…. If only he hadn’t tried to go to school because he wanted to captain the football team…. If only his mother hadn’t stepped out into that busy road to come to collect him from the nurse’s office....

If only.

Distance turned to contempt, which slowly eroded away, leaving nothing but hurt and mistrust on both sides, culminating in the epic shit storm that was his marriage to Lynesse and his subsequent legal troubles.

He’d embarrassed and shamed his father in the worst of ways. The Chief Superintendent’s son caught up in a money laundering scandal. It was the final nail in the coffin of what had once been a relationship. There was nothing left to do but kick some dirt over it and walk away. There was no point mourning a relationship that had been half-hearted at best. If their relationship had been on life-support, Jorah getting messed up in his subordinates’ fraudulent acts was the impetus his father had needed to pull the plug on their faltering relationship.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Daenerys asked as she swept a lock of her long, flowing hair from her face. Oh how he loved to let her hair loose from its bun and run his hands through it…

He turned to face her; half of his shirt buttons still undone as he looked at his watch. “I was going to head out and get us a coffee and some breakfast,” he lied.

What he had intended to do was leave quietly without waking her. He would have left her a note explaining why he couldn’t see her anymore. He had to get out of this while he still could, for her sake, if nothing else.

Daenerys let the sheet drop a little further, exposing her side and one of her breasts to him. “I have a coffee machine,” she said as she pursed her lips seductively at him. “Plus, I can cook a mean breakfast.”

The sheet slipped a little further and Jorah knew he had no resistance to her. Maybe being with her one last time would be the impetus he needed to pull himself away from her for good. Removing his clothes, he climbed back into bed, realising that he was dangerously close to falling in love with this woman.

* * *

Daenerys was underselling her talents when it came to cooking, Jorah realised as he tucked into the bacon, sausage, eggs and toast that she’d piled onto his plate. His eyes widened at the sheer amount of food she’d cooked. That amount of food would have lasted him several days at least and not just a single meal.

“I think you’ve cooked enough,” Jorah said, holding a hand up to prevent Daenerys from putting any more food on his plate.

She gave him a playful pout. “You need fattening up,” she told him, her voice getting serious all of a sudden. “You don’t eat enough.”

Maybe because he’d learned the hard way how to make a small amount of food last as long as possible. Not long after the trial ended, he left the city with less than £100 in his pocket and a few paltry belongings. He stayed in his fair share of hostels and even on the streets for a few nights. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of strangers, he might have starved or froze on those cold winter nights.

“I’m fairly sure you wouldn’t want to add ‘fat’ to the list of things that make me highly unsuitable boyfriend material.”

He winced as her eyes widened in surprise. The words had come out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Is that what you are, huh?” She asked him around a mouthful of egg and bacon. “My boyfriend?”

He felt his cheeks redden, he felt hot and dizzy all of a sudden. A gnawing sense of dread clawing at his gut. “I…uh…I…”

She laughed at him. “Relax, I’m teasing you.” She became serious once again. “I want us to be exclusive though. I don’t want you to see anyone else but me.”

He let out a breath that he didn’t realise he’d been holding before frowning. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve only ever dated one woman at a time. I don’t do causal relationships or friends with added extras, or whatever you call it. It’s all or nothing for me, I’m afraid.”

He was giving her the opportunity to call things off before he did. He knew it was cowardly, but better that she called time on the relationship than him. Whatever else happened, he didn’t want this beautiful, entrancing young woman to be hurt because of him. He wouldn’t be able to bear it knowing that she hated him.

She laughed again, smiling in that way that made his heart melt for her all over again.

“Friends with benefits?” She clarified. “Good, because I don’t want that either.” She held her hand out and placed it on his uninjured arm. “I want to know all about Jorah Mormont - International Man of Mystery.”

Her words were meant to be teasing, but they only served to remind Jorah of just how little he and Daenerys really knew each other. Sure, they’d connected deeply on a physical level, but there were things about him and areas of his life that weren’t all that nice. What happened when he revealed the skeletons in his closet, and she ended up hating him for it? His heart would be too far gone to be able to save him from the emotional fallout he knew would come with it.

How well did he know Daenerys Targaryen, really? Their incomes and worlds couldn’t be further apart, although Jorah had experienced wealth and success, he’d let it slip through his fingers for the love of a woman who led him on and broke his heart.

One look at Daenerys’ apartment showed just how wide the divide in their incomes were. Her kitchen was bigger than the whole of his shabby apartment put together. Her furniture was of the finest quality and the photos hung on her walls told of the rich and famous people she rubbed shoulders with daily. He was a pauper in comparison to her. He had nothing to offer her except his baggage and she was far too young to be burdened by his self-doubts and fears.

“I want you to get to know some of my friends,” Daenerys said, squeezing his arm gently.

His meeting with Missandei at the restaurant last night was enough to put him off the idea entirely.

“There’s a fundraising evening being held by one of the agency’s biggest clients and we’ve been told that attendance is mandatory. Everyone can bring a plus one…”

“I…uh - “

Daenerys cut him off. 

“I don’t want to be the only one there who’s on their own.”

“I’m sure there are lots of young men who would love to take you - “

“I don’t want just anyone. I want you to come with me.”

He would be expected to wear a smart suit no doubt, an expense that he could ill afford, but she was looking at him with such hope in her eyes that he found himself unable to say no to her.

He nodded and she clapped her hands together, clearly happy with his response.

“When is it?”

“Friday,” Daenerys replied, beaming at him. “I can’t wait!”

Once again, Jorah wondered how he’d let himself be talked into something by this beautiful young woman.

* * *

He debated telling her that he couldn’t make it to the party, but as he heard her humming happily in the shower, Jorah knew that he would not be able to bring himself to do so. A woman as beautiful and wonderful as Daenerys deserved to be kept happy. He couldn’t find it within himself to do anything that might cause her harm.

His father was right - he had always been weak when it came to the affections of women.

His phone buzzed. Taking it from his trouser pocket, he glanced at the screen, shaking his head and deleting the message without even reading it in his entirety.

He didn’t need to know the identity of who was sending him the messages, their tone made it clear enough who it was. Maybe if he ignored the messages long enough the sender would give up and leave him alone.

His phone buzzed again, more insistent this time, the person trying to reach him resorting to calling instead of just sending text messages. 

Jorah turned the phone off and shoved it back in his pocket. 

His caller could wait.

* * *

Daenerys continued to hum happily as she took out several tops from her wardrobe, debating which one Jorah would like the most. It seemed silly seeing as she would be stuck at the office for most of the day, but she wanted to leave a good impression on her boyfriend at least.

She smiled at the thought of Jorah being her boyfriend. Although they were both adults and he was older than her, she still felt like a giddy teenager falling in love for the first time. There was something about him that drew her to him, almost as if they had met before in a different life somewhere.

A buzzing from the nightstand caught her attention. She grabbed her phone and answered the call.

“Daenerys,” a male voice said with the hint of an Eastern accent. “I have the information you wanted.”

Daenerys cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and grabbed for a piece of paper to write on. She huffed impatiently as she could find nothing but an eyeliner pencil to write with.

“You’ve found them?” Daenerys asked.

“I have,” the man replied. “Would you like me to pay them a visit for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, Grey,” Daenerys replied. “But I appreciate the offer anyway.”

Daenerys had met Grey through her friendship with Missandei and the two of them had been dating for several years now. It seemed strange that an ex-military soldier and a restaurateur would have anything in common, but theirs was a case of love at first sight, as cheesy as that might have sounded.

“This man, Umber,” Grey continued, “he has a record for petty crimes, breach of the peace, common assault. He’s not the type of man a young woman should be approaching alone.”

You could take the man out of the military, but you couldn’t take the military out of the man, it would seem. 

Grey had started his own private security company several years ago and many of her clients at the talent agency were protected by Grey and his team. They were experts in tracking and investigating any potential threats against those who employed them for their services.

Daenerys would not be deterred though. 

“You worry too much, Grey,” she told him kindly. “There’s no need for anyone to get their hands dirty. I have a feeling that what I have to offer him will be more than enough to convince him to change his ways.”

“I don’t like this, Daenerys,” Grey replied.

Her mind was made up though. 

“I don’t need you to like it. I’ll deal with him. My way.”


	11. Crashing Down

“You look…wow,” Jorah said as he opened his door to find Daenerys standing on the other side in all her finery. Her figure-hugging dress showed off all of her curves and the dark blue silk material brought out the mesmerising colour of her eyes.

She was simply…stunning.

And far too good to be hanging around with someone like him.

She looked him up and down. “You scrub up pretty well yourself,” she told him with a sexy smile.

He stood uncomfortably in a suit that had cost him more than two weeks wages. He would look like a tramp compared to the rest of the men at the party with their designer suits and custom-made shirts and shoes.

He stood aside to let her into his tiny apartment as he searched for his wallet and keys. Despite the expense, he wanted to show her a good time and that would mean paying the cab fare and buying drinks for her.

“I have something for you,” Daenerys said, holding out a wrapped package.

He opened it warily, surprised to find an expensive blue shirt inside. “Daenerys,” he began, rubbing a hand anxiously on his chin. “This is too much, you shouldn’t have.”

She dismissed his misgivings with a wave of her hand. “I owed you a shirt since I ruined that one at Christmas.”

Despite his better judgement, he smiled at the memory of Daenerys ripping his shirt open and the buttons flying everywhere as they clawed at each other in the hallway of his apartment on Christmas Eve.

“I snuck a look in your wardrobe to get the right size,” she said. “It is the right size, isn’t it?”

He peered at the label, hoping she’d got it wrong and that he’d have an excuse to hand the gift back to her. He’d never been a fortunate man to begin with and so it didn’t surprise him when Lady Luck once more gave him the two-fingered salute, his shirt size was staring back and goading him.

“Thank you,” he said, realising that he would look like a bastard if he didn’t accept the gift.

Jorah soon felt her finger the collar of his white dress shirt.

“As much as I love this one, blue really brings out the colour in your eyes,” she said, her fingers making their way to his stubbled cheek. “Would you wear it tonight…for me?” She pouted in that way that made his common sense desert him completely. He found himself utterly powerless against her charms.

He slipped his jacket off and winced as his ribs reminded him that he was still far from healed from his injuries sustained that night at the coffee shop. His stupid male pride told him to change out of Daenerys’ line of sight so that he didn’t look like a complete loser in front of her.

She placed a hand on his arm to stop him from moving away.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, taking the suit jacket from him and laying it on the arm of the sofa before undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He took one of her hands gently in his own large ones to stop her. “I can do it myself; you know.”

Her response was to huff and roll her eyes at him.

“Really?” she said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “We’re doing this macho bullshit again?”

“Daenerys,” he said patiently as he kissed her on the cheek and took a few steps back from her. “I’ve been dressing myself for over forty years now. I think I know how to do it.”

She folded her arms, clearly not happy. “Fine, but I get to undress you when we get back though?”

He laughed, feeling his mood lightening whenever he was near her. No matter how grim his thoughts became, Daenerys would light even the darkest parts of his heart.

“Deal,” he said, shrugging off his white shirt and putting the blue one on.

* * *

Jorah felt his mouth go dry as the cab pulled up outside one of the city’s most expensive hotels. Ever the gentleman, he opened her door and held out a hand before walking with her into the massive, brightly lit building. It unnerved him that she seemed to know her way around the place without even asking for directions.

From the moment he walked into the large hall where the event was being held, Jorah had never felt so out of place in his life.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d attended several similar functions when married to Lynesse and had hated each and every one of them. Taking the flute of champagne that was offered to him by the smartly dressed waiter, he gulped the fizzy liquid down in two large mouthfuls, praying that the night would be over before he knew it.

Several handshakes and fake smiles later, Daenerys excused herself to go in search of the bathroom, leaving Jorah standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, trying his best to hide away in its dark recesses.

“And who might you be?” A female voice purred somewhere to the right of him.

He looked around and his eyes fell upon a woman with long, flowing strawberry blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The woman was clearly Daenerys’ age or thereabouts.

“What’s a good-looking man like you doing standing in the dark all alone?” She said, moving a few steps closer to him.

Jorah realised all too late that he was trapped in the corner with no way to escape the woman’s attentions other than rudely brushing past her.

“What’s your name, stranger?” The woman asked, sipping on a glass of sangria.

Jorah cast his eyes over the room, desperately searching for any sign of Daenerys. Given half the chance this young woman was likely to eat him alive if he wasn’t careful.

“Uh, Jorah,” he mumbled.

The young woman smiled. “Well hello, Jorah,” she paused before saying his name as if she were weighing up the feel of it in her mouth. “I’m Margaery Tyrell,” she said coquettishly before taking another sip of her drink, her eyes looking up and searching for his, clearly trying to be provocative.

“And what brings a handsome man like you to an event like this?” She asked. “You must be someone important to be here. What is it that you do for a living?”

Jorah felt his mouth go painfully dry. There was no way he could tell her the truth. His heart began pounding, he felt as if everyone in the room was staring directly at him. His ears started ringing and he felt for all the world that he would be sick right in front of this beautiful young woman.

_Get out of here,_ the voice in his head told him. _You don’t belong here. You never did._

His panic rising, Jorah looked frantically for the nearest exit. His need to bolt overcoming his gentlemanly manners. He had to make an escape. Now…

“Ah, Mormont,” the familiar voice of his employer Tyrion Lannister said, making his way toward him. “So this is where you’ve been hiding away,” he remarked before nodding his head politely toward the young woman. “Miss Tyrell, I see you have been acquainting yourself with the fine Mr. Mormont here.”

Margaery looked slightly annoyed by the small man’s presence. 

“Indeed,” she said, returning her attention to Jorah. “He was just about to tell me what brings him to such an event.”

Tyrion had a cunning glint in his eye and despite Jorah having only known the man less than a year, he knew it would likely lead to trouble.

“You mean he hasn’t told you?” Tyrion said in mock surprise.

Margaery narrowed her eyes at the man who had intruded on her conversation.

“He was about to when you came over and interrupted our friendly little chat,” she said waspishly.

Tyrion gulped his glass of wine down in one go before signalling to a waiter to bring him another. “Well, Mormont here always tends to hide his light under a bushel. He’s not one to talk about his accomplishments, are you, old man?”

It took all of Jorah’s self-control not to growl at his employer. Swallowing his anger, he decided against biting the hand that fed him. Working at the coffee shop was his only source of regular income and he’d rather his pride took a hit than his wallet.

“Mormont here is my financial adviser,” Tyrion said, gulping down his refilled glass of wine in one mouthful. “It’s thanks to him that I have so many coffee shops across the country.” Tyrion raised his empty glass to Jorah, toasting him. “Although he tends to prefer his books and ledgers, he can be convinced to come out into the light to show his face at least once or twice a year.”

Jorah could feel Magaery’s eyes boring into him. He looked around frantically for any sign of Daenerys.

“An accountant?” Margaery said, her tone mildly surprised. “I had no idea that book keepers could look so attractive,” she purred, pouting her lip seductively at Jorah. “Care to balance my books sometime?”

Jorah looked at Tyrion, his face stricken.

“Perhaps later,” Tyrion said. “There are a few people I need to introduce my financial adviser to, so if you’d please excuse us.”

Jorah followed after Tyrion like a lost sheep caught in a pack of hungry wolves.

“What are you doing here?” Jorah said, no longer able to keep his anger at bay.

Tyrion grabbed sightlessly for another glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “Saving your skin,” he said between mouthfuls. “You would think one would be more grateful, especially considering I am your boss.”

Suitably chastised, Jorah took a number of deep breaths.

“Why did you lie about me?”

Tyrion scoffed at the question. “I didn’t lie, I merely massaged the truth a little.” It had been the same words Tyrion had spoken to him several weeks earlier. “Besides, you were a financier once, were you not?”

Jorah narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“How did you know?”

Tyrion laughed at the question. “Do you take me for a fool, Mormont?” He said, shaking his head. “A smart man always does his research on those he employs. You have a very interesting backstory, that’s for sure. While a Lannister always pays his debts, he also does his due diligence, too. Which also leads me to ask what you’re doing here. How on earth did they let you in here dressed like that?”

“I came here on a date,” Jorah mumbled, running a hand over his tired features.

Tyrion almost choked on his drink.

“You? A date?” Tyrion mocked him. “Which lovely young lady is yours then?”

Tyrion looked around the room, pointing to a number of women, none of whom Jorah had ever seen before, but once Tyrion’s eye landed on Daenerys, Jorah’s cheeks flushed red before he could stop them.

“Oh,” Tyrion said, speechless for once. “Oh, wow. Didn’t you learn from your last wife?”

“That was a long time ago,” Jorah said sullenly. “I’m not that man anymore.”

“Horse shite,” Tyrion shot back. “A man can no more change who he is than a leopard can change its spots. You may try to outrun your past, but it always tends to catch up with a man, sooner or later.”

Jorah had learned that to his cost in the most brutal of ways recently.

* * *

“Targaryen,” a low female voice called out. “Over here.”

Daenerys bit down on her anger at Cersei Lannister’s complete lack of manners. Who did the woman think she was, calling to her as if she were a dog?

Plastering on a smile, she walked over to the singer.

“Cersei,” Daenerys said, feeling as if she were chewing on glass.

“Miss Lannister, please,” Cersei replied coolly.

_Fuck knows why she insists on using her maiden name,_ Daenerys thought to herself. Cersei Lannister had been married to the fat music mogul Robert Baratheon for several years now. It was common knowledge in the industry that Cersei had slept her way to the record deal that had made her a household name across the country.

“Are you here alone?” Cersei asked, looking at her brother Jaime as he stood proudly beside her. The two of them were always stuck together like glue, one never being far from the other when seen out in public.

Daenerys suddenly felt the urge to defend herself, her eyes flicking to Jorah who stood in the middle of a conversation with Cersei’s other brother, Tyrion and the young and upcoming pop star Margaery Tyrell.

“No, I’m here with a date,” Daenerys replied stiffly.

Cersei followed her line of sight and smiled gleefully.

“You’re here with my brother?”

Daenerys shook her head.

“Magaery Tyrell? I never took you for a lesbian.”

“Neither of them,” Daenerys ground out.

This time, Cersei let out a laugh that was heard by half the room.

“The old man dressed like a thrift store manikin?” She said incredulously. “Where did you find him - on the streets?” Cersei cast a look to her brother. At least he looked slightly uncomfortable at his sister’s vile words. “Have you slept your way through all the rich men already?”

Daenerys saw red. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” Daenerys spat at her adversary. “The only thing that’s open more often than your mouth is those legs of yours, you cheap whore!”

Cersei pursed her lips. “Strong words, little girl. They might be your last as far as your career is concerned.”

“Well, if it means that I don’t have to listen to your toneless drivel anymore, maybe that’s a good thing!”

Stalking over to Jorah, Daenerys grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the exit. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

* * *

The cab ride to Daenerys’ apartment was made in almost complete silence as the two of them stewed on what had been an unpleasant night for both of them.

It hurt Daenerys that her lover seemed to be more interested in his brooding and navel-gazing than he did in her obvious sullen demeanour.

“What’s wrong with you?” She said, spitting the words out as she shut her front door with a loud bang.

The question seemed to bring Jorah up short. “What’s wrong with you?” He shot back. He’d been left embarrassed and humiliated tonight and what made matters worse was that Daenerys left him stranded and alone for most of it while she schmoozed her way around the room.

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling her temper flaring at his obstinance.

“You’ve had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp for hours now,” she said snidely. “Why don’t you be a man and spit it out?”

He couldn’t help himself. Her words hurt him, whether she intended them to or not.

“Fine,” he said, shoving his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket. “You want the truth?” He asked. She nodded her head. “I never wanted to go to the damn party anyway. I only did it to make you happy.”

“So you lied to me?” She said, her mouth dropping open. “For days?”

Jorah shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t lie,” he retorted. “You were too wrapped up in your own world to even notice.”

“That’s bullshit!” She argued. “After everything I’ve done for you…you accuse me of only caring about myself!” Daenerys shouted, her anger getting the better of her.

Jorah rolled his eyes as he began pacing the room. “Buying me a designer shirt does not make me beholden to you, Daenerys,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.

“Really?” She snorted. “Then why do you think those men haven’t bothered you again?”

He stopped pacing immediately, not understanding what he’d just heard.

“What do you mean?” He asked, staring at her now. “What did you do?”

Daenerys realised her mistake all too late.

“It was nothing, forget I said anything.”

Jorah shook his head and took a step closer to her.

“What did you do, Daenerys?” His tone was low, his expression one of fury. “What have you done?”

“I tracked down Rickard and paid him and his heavies off. I gave them enough money to convince them to leave you alone for good.”

“What?” He said, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. “Why…. why did you do that?”

“Because I love you!”

The words hit Jorah with the force of a bullet train. He shook his head as if to clear it.

“I did it because I love you,” Daenerys pleaded with him. “I’m sorry!”

Jorah stood motionless for a number of minutes as he tried to process the information.

“Talk to me,” Daenerys begged, all anger gone and replaced by remorse. “Say something, please. Even if it’s just to tell me that you hate me.”

“ Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” Jorah said, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m sorry that I ever fell in love with someone like you.”

He turned his back and left her apartment, shrugging off her desperate attempts to make him stay.

The door slammed in Daenerys’ face as her world crumbled around her. How had things fallen apart so quickly?

For the first time in her life, she felt utterly bereft, the sound of the door slamming reverberating in her head like an insidious echo that was only matched by the painful thumping of her heart as it shattered on the floor.

Feeling her legs grow weak, Daenerys slid down the nearest wall and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, I'm just going into hiding for a little while now...


	12. Head To Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was very naughty of me to leave the story on such a cliffhanger last week and I hope you'll find it within your hearts to forgive me... :)

Jorah knew his beard was getting too long but he couldn’t bothered to do anything more than attend his shifts at the coffee shop before coming back to his flat to brood. Even some of the customers expressed their concern at his appearance, but he waved off their concern and plastered a smile on his face, realising that he could get rid of them quicker that way, rather than letting well-meaning people pry into his business.

Even Tyrion visited the coffee shop and for once laid off on the wisecracks and innuendo, perhaps in an attempt to show some sort of male solidarity.

It had been ten days since he stormed out of Daenerys’ apartment and the two of them had not spoken since. His phone rang incessantly for the first few days and he’d ignored every call and text message since. She might have tried several times after that, but his phone was still lying on the floor in tiny pieces after throwing it against the wall and stamping on it with his foot.

The momentary flash of anger felt good at the time and perhaps the bottle of whiskey he drank beforehand helped stoke the embers of his ire. He was furious at Daenerys for her meddling and more than that, his pride had been wounded in the most grievous way. Her actions reminded him that he had nothing to offer her. Between the age gap and the vast chasm when it came to their finances, it was painfully obvious that any kind of relationship they might have had was fated to end in disaster.

Daenerys hadn’t been the only source of his frustration though and it was the last text message that he received from an unknown number that finally tipped him over the edge and triggered his episode of drunken, petulant behaviour. He didn’t need to recognise the number to know who the sender was, the tone of the text messages making it abundantly clear who they were.

He’d been on autopilot since his argument with Daenerys and even Mrs. Chambers looked at him with concern written plainly on her face. The kittens picked up on their owner’s dramatic change in behaviour and vacillated between showing him affection and giving him a wide berth. Whoever said cats were not perceptive clearly had never owned a cat before.

Tyrion gave him today off, despite the fact that Jorah argued that he needed to keep himself occupied.

“No, what you need is to make it up with your girlfriend and shag her senseless,” Tyrion replied, waving his hand in a shooing motion toward the door to the coffee shop when he’d arrived this morning.

Sat at home and moping, Jorah flicked through a number of TV shows, changing the channel each time when they began reminding him of the woman he’d fallen in love with. He eventually switched the TV off and dropped the controller on the coffee table with a loud clatter, causing Longclaw to scamper across the room and hide underneath the bed.

 _Great_ , Jorah muttered to himself, feeling like an absolute shit for upsetting the cats as well.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was fucking miserable.

* * *

Daenerys gave herself one final look in the mirror before leaving her spacious apartment and traveling to what might be the most important event in her life.

It had been ten days since that fateful night when she let slip that she’d paid off the thugs who had beaten Jorah so badly. She hoped that he would never find out that she’d made contact with Rickard Umber and given him a generous amount of money along with a warning that she knew dangerous people and wouldn’t think twice about setting them on him and his friends if they ever came anywhere near Jorah again.

She did it with the intention of helping Jorah so that he could finally let go of some of the demons of his past, but all it served to do was push him further away from her. 

And so she began to call and text him constantly, hoping to wear down Jorah’s stupid pride and convince him that they were good together. She hadn’t felt his way about a guy for so long and she didn’t want them to throw away what they had over something so trivial.

Except it hadn’t been trivial to Jorah, his reaction to her revelation making that abundantly clear. Despite her best efforts, Jorah refused to answer any of her calls or text messages.

Daenerys spent the first few days after their argument sitting in her pyjamas, day-drinking and crying. When she told Jorah that she loved him she had meant it and his caustic reply had hurt her deeply.

She turned up for work on Monday morning hungover and miserable and her day went from bad to worse when her boss at the talent agency told her that she’d been fired and Daenerys knew exactly why. Cersei Lannister had obviously thrown a tantrum after their falling out on Friday night.

To call it a ‘falling out’ would assume that Daenerys ever liked the smug bitch in the first place. She liked Cersei Lannister about as much as a dog likes its nose rubbed into the carpet that it’s just pissed on. 

She cleared her desk and packed her belongings in a cardboard box before leaving the office for the last time. Never had she felt so low on that lonely train ride home with only her box of knick-knacks to keep her company.

Daenerys knew that she didn’t have to worry about money for a while. She still had a significant amount left from her father’s estate and it would be enough to keep her in the kind of life she’d become accustomed to for a while longer yet, but it was only now that she was beginning to realise that perhaps money wasn’t the most important thing in the world. While her surroundings were comfortable and her apartment palatial, the place seemed far too big without Jorah there.

Money had driven them apart and it sure wasn’t going to help them get back together again either.

After almost two weeks of silence from Jorah, Daenerys decided to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

“Ah, Miss Daenerys, it’s good to see you again.”

Daenerys turned quickly at the sound of Mrs. Chambers' voice as the elderly lady began making her way up the set of steps outside the building where both the old woman and Jorah lived. Daenerys quickly took the bag of groceries from the her and held an arm out in support so that Mrs. Chambers could pull herself up the stairs and to the front door.

“Are you here to see Mr. Mormont?” The older woman asked as she fished in her purse for her door keys. “Have you been away, my dear? Mr. Mormont has been quite down these past few weeks and I’m sure a visit from you will help cheer him up.”

Daenerys winced. It was obvious that Mrs. Chambers was oblivious as to the reason why she hadn’t come by for weeks. Eager to find out how Jorah was, Daenerys tried to eek further information from the other woman.

“Is he ok?” Daenerys asked, her voice full of what she hoped Mrs. Chambers would think of as concern.

“He’s not been his usual self, my dear,” Mrs. Chambers said as she finally pulled the keys from her purse. “It might be the pain from his accident,” the older woman supplied as she turned the key in the lock and shuffled inside. “He doesn’t say much, but I can tell he’s still hurting.”

Daenerys knew only too well that she had been the one to cause him that pain. She followed Mrs. Chambers up the stairs to her apartment and carried her groceries to the kitchen counter.

“It’s not really my place to say…” Mrs. Chambers said as she placed a bottle of milk in the fridge. “I’ve noticed a few empty bottles outside on bin day. I think Mr. Mormont is drinking more than he should.”

Daenerys felt her heart clench painfully.

“I know that you make him happy,” the elderly woman continued. “He’s a good man, he doesn’t deserve to be sad.”

Daenerys could feel the tears well in her eyes.

“I promise I’ll try my best,” she said as she left the apartment, now more determined than ever to put things right with Jorah.

As she walked back down the stairs and towards Jorah’s apartment, Daenerys ran through the things she wanted to say. She knew she needed to apologise, and she prayed that Jorah would at least give her the chance to do so.

All too soon, she reached Jorah’s apartment. Taking a few moments to steel herself, Daenerys raised a shaky hand and knocked on the old wooden door.

She heard the cats scamper at the sound, followed by Jorah’s voice reassuring the kittens that they were safe. God, how she’d missed his voice these past few weeks.

“Mrs. Chamb-” Jorah said as he opened the door, stopping midway through as he realised it wasn’t his neighbour standing on the other side.

Daenerys saw his face turn from concern to surprise and then anger.

“What are you doing here?” He growled at her.

Daenerys held her hands up. “Jorah, please,” she begged him, “we need to talk about what happened.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, the hurt still evident in his handsome features.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said dismissively. “You went behind my back and lied to me.” His tone then changed to one of resigned defeat. “I can’t be with someone who lies to me. I’ve been there before, and it ruined me.”

One look at his haggard features and Daenerys could plainly see what her actions had done to the man she loved. His beard was longer than she ever remembered seeing it, his hair was unkempt and he’d clearly not been changing his clothes on a daily basis.

Daenerys tried to bite back the tears. “Just give me ten minutes to explain and if you still hate me afterwards…I’ll never bother you again.” She looked at him, begging him to give her that at least. “If the last few months have meant anything to you…please, just give me a chance to explain.”

Jorah let out a deep sigh, screwing his eyes shut as he stepped aside and allowed her to enter his apartment. He’d told himself a thousand times that he would be strong, that he would not let her get underneath his skin again, yet it had only taken a matter of moments for his willpower to crumble. She crept behind all of his defences far too easily.

“Well, that explains why you weren’t answering my calls,” Daenerys remarked dryly as she spied the broken pieces of Jorah’s phone laying haphazardly on the floor.

“I thought you wanted to explain yourself, not critique my skills as a housemaid,” he snapped. He might have capitulated and allowed her in the apartment, but he wasn’t going to let her get off that easily. “You have nine minutes left.”

Daenerys took a deep breath, trying to buy herself enough time to collect her thoughts.

“I know it wasn’t my place to interfere, but when Rickard and his men attacked you, all I wanted to do was protect you…and then you told me about what happened with your ex-wife and how you got caught up in that whole mess in the first place. I know the kind of man you are, Jorah. You didn’t deserve any of what happened to you.”

Jorah folded his arms across his chest, keeping a distance of several feet between him and Daenerys as she perched on the arm of his couch.

“I brought it on myself,” Jorah replied stubbornly. “I should have realised that I could never outrun my past.” He rubbed tiredly at his face. “What you did… it just proves that I don’t belong here… I never have.”

Daenerys got to her feet, stomping towards him. “No, you don’t get to run away and hide just because things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to. I won’t let you!”

Jorah ran a hand through his unkempt hair, feeling his own anger bubbling to the surface. “This is exactly what I mean,” he said, gesturing angrily towards her. “Who the hell do you think you are telling me what I can and can’t do?”

Daenerys felt her temper ignite. “You’re an arrogant, egotistical, stubborn, belligerent arsehole!” she shot back quickly. “Someone needs to tell you to pull your head out of your backside every once in a while! Not everything is about you and your man pain! Aww, let’s all feel sorry for poor, tortured Jorah!” She mocked him and it was enough for him to finally explode.

“Well, someone should tell you that you’re a spoilt, self-righteous, demanding little princess who throws her toys out of the pram whenever she doesn’t get her own way. You can’t fix everything by throwing money at it and if you weren’t so fucking childish you’d see that!” Jorah replied as he stalked towards her until their noses almost touched.

“Is that all you’ve got?" Daenerys countered.

“God, you infuriate me!” Jorah shouted.

They stared at each other, breathing heavily before their lips met and hands began clawing at each other’s clothes.

* * *

Mrs. Chambers sat in her favourite armchair, stirring her tea with a spoon and watching with some amusement as the ripples formed over the steaming liquid. The walls and ceilings of the creaky old building echoed upstairs to her apartment as she heard and then felt the banging coming from downstairs, followed by a woman’s voice screaming in pure pleasure.


	13. All You Need Is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on my last few vacation days from work and so I'll be going back to posting a chapter once a week again as I won't have as much free time as I've had the past few weeks.
> 
> Please note, this chapter contains a scene some of you may be familiar with from a previous story and may be upsetting, so please read with caution.

Truth be told, Jorah wasn’t sure which one of them kissed the other first, but before long they were ripping each other’s clothes off as Jorah pushed them onto the sofa and weeks of pent-up frustration found an outlet in the most passionate of ways.

Perhaps they were making up for lost time, but Jorah lost count of the amount of times they’d tumbled their way around his apartment that afternoon.

Evening began to draw in and Jorah felt Daenerys shift in her sleep. She had fallen asleep with her head on his chest and he’d followed her into an exhausted slumber soon after.

He’d been awake for over an hour now, content to just watch Daenerys, while mulling over in his mind how the hell they were going to make things work between them. Sure, the spark of physical passion was as present as it had ever been, but no amount of lust would make up for the huge differences in their lives. He was older than her and she deserved to have a long and happy relationship with someone who was her equal, not someone who barely got by.

His financial situation was not likely to change any time soon and a man his age would never be seen as a good prospect to any employer, other than those who were looking for low-skilled people they could get away with paying a pittance to.

He meant what he said before he stormed out of her apartment ten days ago. He was falling in love with her and he knew that there wasn’t a single thing that he could do about it. She had his heart, even though he’d tried so hard to protect it from getting broken again and that made what she’d done all the worse.

He had never felt as if he was good enough for her and Daenerys paying Rickard off proved that he would only bring her down in the long run. His father was right - the things he loved destroyed him, every time. 

Daenerys didn’t deserve to be destroyed by embarking on a doomed relationship with him. Maybe it wouldn’t happen straight away, but sooner or later he would drag her down and she’d end up hating him for it. He would never forgive himself if that happened.

“What are you thinking about?” Daenerys said sleepily, running a finger through his chest hair.

He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing,” he replied as he tried to convince her.

Her fingers stopped just above his heart.

“You’re tense. I can feel it.”

How could she undo him so easily?

She looked up at him then, tears in her eyes.

“Is this the part where you tell me that what we just did didn’t change anything?”

How could he possibly articulate the maelstrom of thoughts that were running through his mind?

“I love you, Jorah,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he replied. “I love you, too.”

Daenerys raised her head to look at him. “Then that’s enough, isn’t it? We can figure out the rest as we go?”

Maybe she’d never had her heart broken in the way he had. Sure, it would hurt to lose her, but the longer he stayed by her side, the deeper he would fall under her spell and he knew that when that happened, he would not be able to deny her anything. He would go to the ends of the earth for her if she asked him to.

He couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes as he looked at her, running his fingers through her long hair, his thumb gently brushing her cheek.

“What happens when you realise that you could do so much better than me?” He asked, his voice shaking slightly. “I have nothing to offer you except my love and that won’t pay your rent or buy your dinner.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“But you should, Daenerys.” Jorah replied, his eyes full of sorrow. “You deserve the best of everything, and I can’t give you that. You’re meant for better things than me.”

For the first time in her life, Daenerys finally understood what loving someone really meant. The man lying next to her was willingly sacrificing himself for her and asking for nothing in return, his only thoughts being of her happiness. This man loved her selflessly enough to let her go, even if it meant tearing his own heart out of his chest and handing it to her.

How could she make him see that having his love was worth more than all the money in the world?

“If you asked me to leave here with you tomorrow with just the clothes on our backs… I’d do it without a second thought,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t need money or fancy clothes…I just need you.”

“You deserve better,” Jorah persevered.

“No, what I deserve is having the man who loves me stay by my side,” she cut him off quickly. “No one has loved me like you do, Jorah. Just being with you makes me want to be a better person. You make me feel happy and safe…I’ve never had that with anyone in my life. You make me feel like I can face anything with you by my side.”

“I love you; I’ll always love you,” Jorah replied, kissing her gently. “I’d give you the world, if I could.”

She returned his kiss with one of her own. “I don’t want the world,” she said between kisses. “Just you.”

* * *

_Upon entering the room where her husband lay, Daenerys found her father in law in exactly the same position she’d left him several hours ago, although he looked considerably more drawn and tired than he had earlier in the day._

_Mary wheeled Daenerys to her husband’s bedside and watched on tearfully as the young woman sobbed._

_“Jorah,” she whispered, using the hand not holding their baby to caress his face._

_He opened his eyes halfway and smiled behind the oxygen mask covering his face._

_“I’ve got someone here to see you,” Daenerys said as she gently placed Poppy onto her father’s chest, taking one of Jorah’s shaky arms to cradle their child._

_“Poppy,” he gasped, his breath wheezing and laboured._

_Poppy had begun crying when removed from her mother’s arms yet stopped instantly as her father held her for the first time. Only an hour or so old, Poppy opened her eyes and stared at her father, burbling as her tiny hand grabbed one of his fingers._

_As weak as he was, Jorah smiled as he held his daughter close to his chest, his eyes closing slowly as he took several noisy breaths until his chest finally stilled._

_Reaching over, Mary placed her fingers on Jorah’s neck, shaking her head as she looked at Jeor mournfully. She carefully lifted Poppy into her grandfather’s arms and it seemed to have dawned on Daenerys in that instant that her husband was gone._

_Not caring about the pain it caused, Daenerys launched herself from her wheelchair, running her hands over her husband’s face, begging him not to leave her before burying her head on his chest as she sobbed painfully, unwilling to let him go and knowing that if she did so, it would confirm what she already knew to be true._

_He had left her._

 _There was nothing Mary or Jeor could do to console Daenerys as she wept over her husband’s body, although Mary knew that the hospital staff would soon need to take Jorah’s body away._

_Mary had warned the hospital staff off several times already with a stern look, but it seemed that this time they would not be deterred._

_She placed her hands on Daenerys’ shoulders. “Daenerys, they have to take him now.”_

_Daenerys shook her head furiously. “No!”_

_“They have to take him, hen.”_

_“No!” She repeated, “I won’t leave him.”_

_Jeor stepped in and gently guided her away from his son’s body. “They’ll take good care of him, sweetheart.” Jeor shot the hospital staff a glare to underly his intent. “We have to let him go now.”_

_“I can’t let him go,” Daenerys sobbed._

_Jeor held her tightly as tears ran down his own face._

_“I know sweetheart. I know.”_

* * *

Daenerys woke to the sound of her own sobbing, sitting up straight in bed and crying helplessly as Jorah took her shaking form in his arms and held her tightly.

“Hey,” he crooned, trying to soothe her. “You’re ok, it was just a dream.”

Daenerys shook her head as much as she could in his arms and buried her face against his chest, needing to feel and hear the strong thrum of his heartbeat as the tears ran from her eyes.

It took her several minutes to regain control of herself. Taking shuddering breaths, Daenerys gently broke away from his embrace and caressed the side of his face with her fingers.

“You’re ok?” She asked, still seemingly dazed from the dream.

He nodded; his face full of concern. “I’m right here, everything’s ok,” he tried to reassure her.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes again. 

“But I lost you,” she sobbed. “You left me.”

He drew her close to his body once more, leaning his head on the top of hers. “I’ll never abandon you; I promise. I will never leave your side unless that’s what you want.”

“But you left me, Jorah,” she insisted. “You died and left me to bring up our baby alone.”

He had no idea what she was talking about.

“It wasn’t real, Daenerys. It was just a dream.”

She shook her head as she moved to look at his face once more.

“It felt so real,” she said, her voice still shaking. “I lost you and there was nothing I could do about it. You died and I couldn’t stop it. You died and you left me!”

“Hey,” he said, trying to reassure her by placing her hand over his heart. “I’m right here and I’m not dying. I’m not going anywhere, ok?”

“Do you promise?” Daenerys asked, all the world sounding like a small child.

“I swear to you that I will never willingly leave your side,” he reassured her. “It’s late, let’s go back to sleep, ok?”

She nodded her head and snuggled into his side, laying her head on his chest and allowing his heartbeat to soothe her back to sleep.


	14. A Fresh Start

Jorah was content to watch over the woman he loved as she slept, curled into his side with her arms wrapped possessively around him.

He couldn’t fully understand what Daenerys’ dream had been about, but her reaction and the way she described it left him in little doubt how terrifying it must have been for her. Holding her in his arms, he knew for certain that he would willingly throw himself in harm’s way to protect her if it meant keeping her safe.

His eyes must have drifted closed at some point, as the next thing he was aware of was Daenerys’ phone chirping incessantly underneath the pile of discarded clothes near the couch. He carefully extricated himself from her embrace, inadvertently waking her in the process.

“Where are you going?” Daenerys said sleepily.

He bent down to kiss her forehead.

“Your phone’s making a noise, I was going to get up and bring it to you,” he said with a smile. “It seems as if someone is popular today.”

Daenerys let out a groan, realising what day it was.

“It’s my birthday,” she said quietly.

Jorah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daenerys sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard. “Apart from arguing, we didn’t really do much talking last night,” she replied with the hint of a teasing smile. “It’s not like I could have just dropped it into the conversation somewhere.”

Jorah’s eyes dropped to the ground and the kittens seemed to pick up on his change of mood as they made their way over to him, rubbing themselves on any part of him they could reach.

“If I had known, I would have got you something.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daenerys replied. “It’s just another day.”

Jorah looked at her this time. “It matters to me. I want to know about all the things that are important to you.”

Daenerys looked down at her hands as they lay in her lap. “Birthdays were never all that fun for me growing up, in between my father’s moods and my brothers’ attitudes. My last boyfriend broke up with me on my birthday, so believe me when I say that it’s just another day.”

Jorah shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said with conviction as he pulled on his jeans and smiled at her. “Wait there,” he told her as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Daenerys frowned, puzzled as to what he was doing, especially when she heard him moving things around. 

He returned several minutes later, his hands holding something covered by an old grey rag. He suddenly looked nervous.

“I was going to give you this at Christmas, to celebrate our one year anniversary,” he said, his hands shaking slightly. “I mean, I was hoping we’d still be together then…”

Daenerys realised that, at that moment, she’d made the best decision in her life of falling in love with Jorah. She’d never met anyone quite as sweet and charming as the man who stood before her.

“I know it’s not much, but I made this for you,” Jorah continued, sitting on Daenerys’ side of the bed, scratching the back of his head and handing it over to her.

She gasped in surprise as she removed the cloth and saw the framed painting of three dragons soaring through the sky and a woman who looked just like her gazing up at them with love and adoration.

“It’s…” 

For once in her adult life, Daenerys was truly lost for words. She couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes as she looked at the painting in its gorgeous gold frame.

Jorah ran a hand through his hair in a gesture that spoke volumes as to his insecurity about handing her the gift.

“It’s ok if you don’t like it,” he said quietly. “I can get rid of it if you hate it.”

“Don’t you dare, Jorah Mormont!” She said, smiling through her tears. “You made this for me?”

His head dropped and he gave her one of his shy smiles. “It’s nothing really,” he replied, trying to sound casual about it. “It’s just a silly image I had in my head. I know it’s not jewellery or a fancy car…”

Daenerys grabbed him and kissed him soundly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care about any of that crap?” She said as their foreheads touched. “This,” she said, gesturing to the painting in her lap, “this is worth so much more than any of that stuff.”

Jorah could feel the blush creeping up his face, knowing that he’d never been comfortable with praise from anyone, especially the people he loved.

“It’s just a painting,” he shrugged.

“No, it’s not just a painting,” Daenerys argued. “It’s a piece of you and that means more to me than all the money in the world. I love this,” she said, gesturing to the painting, “and I love you.”

Jorah accepted her kisses and returned them with some of his own.

“I do have one comment though,” Daenerys said, pulling back slightly. “The painting is missing something.”

Jorah looked at her quizzically.

“It’s missing my knight in shining armour.”

Jorah looked at her, his expression blank.

She kissed him again, laughing against his lips. “You, you idiot. Now come here and kiss your dragon queen.”

He didn’t need any further invitation and after carefully placing the painting on the floor, Jorah removed his jeans and acquiesced to his queen’s demands.

* * *

Even though she’d told him it wasn’t necessary, Daenerys allowed Jorah to spoil her for the rest of the day. He started by heading out to get fresh coffee and breakfast, which they’d enjoyed in bed. Even the cats started making a fuss of her, possibly under the pretence of getting some of her food, but she enjoyed it all the same. The four of them made a strange kind of family, but one which Daenerys could see herself enjoying for years to come.

Shut away in Jorah’s small apartment, it was as if the world outside seemed far less stressful and demanding. She no longer had to deal with demanding clients, lying to their faces just to inflate their egos. When she was here with Jorah and the cats, she felt as if no demands were placed on her, allowing her to just be herself.

She felt safe and content and it was something she could easily get used to.

They spent the afternoon strolling around the streets of the city, with Jorah giving her a piggyback ride at one point when she gently complained that her feet were aching. Despite the cast on his left wrist, he gathered her weight easily enough and strode several yards across the park before depositing her on the bench.

Daenerys felt the tears threatening to spill once more when Jorah motioned for her to stay sat on the bench while he disappeared, returning a few minutes later with two ice creams in his hands. It was only March and the weather wasn’t exactly warm, but she took the sweet treat, eyeing the chocolate flake sticking out the top of hers.

“For the birthday girl,” Jorah said as he sat on the bench beside her. “Only the best for my girl on her birthday.”

She devoured the chocolate before licking at the ice cream in the cone.

“I could get used to the sound of that,” she said between licks.

“What’s that?” Jorah asked.

“Being your girl.”

He let out a laugh. “Good,” he replied as he finished his own ice cream. “You’re beholden to me now I’ve bought you that ice cream.”

Sitting on the park bench on a cold and cloudy day, Daenerys realised that there was nowhere in the world she’d rather be right now. Although she’d spent past holidays in sunny locations with various people, she’d always felt slightly alone and as if she never really fit in. Lavish gifts and exotic holidays never seemed to fill the aching hole inside her.

And yet Jorah had hardly spent a fortune on her today. He’d given her a handmade gift, bought her only coffee, breakfast and an ice cream, but she already felt like the richest woman in the world. If all her money was to vanish tomorrow, she knew that she’d still be the most fortunate woman in the world to have Jorah by her side.

* * *

As the night began to draw in, they made their way back to Jorah’s apartment with two packets of fish and chips from the takeaway shop. Daenerys walked arm in arm with the man she loved, resting her head on his shoulder as she let out a contented sigh.

Unable to hold back any longer as Jorah fished in his pocket for the door keys, Daenerys grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket and kissed him soundly, much like she had on that cold Christmas Eve.

“What was that for?” Jorah smiled as he unlocked the door and motioned her inside.

She looked at him, her face serious. 

“This has been, without a doubt, the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Jorah blushed at her words, shrugging his shoulders as he opened the apartment door and tossed his keys down on the coffee table.

“I doubt that,” he said, brushing off her sweet words, feeling embarrassed that he hadn’t spent a fortune on her today. “I’ll get us some plates,” he said, trying to change the subject.

Daenerys shook her head and dragged him down onto the couch.

“Sit your ass down, Mr. Starfucks, and have dinner with your girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes but acquiesced to her demands immediately.

* * *

If the kittens had begun warming to her this morning, they were definitely firm friends now that Daenerys fed them small bits of her fried fish as she sat next to Jorah on the couch. The cats were clearly enamoured with her as they sat patiently in front of her, waiting for the tasty morsels to find their way on to the floor and at their feet.

Daenerys let out a yawn, finishing the last of her wine.

“I hope you’re not too tired,” Jorah said, smiling as he gently pushed her hair back over her shoulder before kissing her collarbone and then her neck. 

“Why’s that?” She asked, feeling that familiar tingle deep in her stomach as his hands began to undo the buttons on her blouse and hers found their way into his hair.

His hand brushed one of her breasts as he ghosted his fingers along her flesh and she couldn’t help but let out a shuddering sigh.

“Because I need to give you the birthday bumps,” he replied before devouring her mouth with his own. 

As he leant over her, Daenerys was in no doubt as to what he had planned for her. She could feel his hardness press against her body, and she made short work of the button and zip on his jeans.

She was disappointed when he pulled away, “Uh uh,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. “Now how old did you say you were again?” He asked as he gently laid her against the pillows.

“Thirty-two,” she answered, her breath hitching as his hands and lips roamed across the plains of her body.

“Hmmm,” Jorah replied, his mouth against her inner thigh, causing an intense pleasure at her core. “Thirty-two bumps it is then,” he nodded as he set about his task with determined fervour.

* * *

Daenerys wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to move again as Jorah rolled off of her and flat onto his back to lay beside her.

“That was…wow,” she said, her voice and nerves still tingling from the intense high.

Jorah smiled, surprised with himself that he’d actually made it to thirty-two before spilling himself deep inside her. His face then turned serious as he frowned.

“Is it wrong to tell you that I don’t want you to go into work tomorrow?” He asked as he stared up at the ceiling, his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, about that,” Daenerys replied as she fidgeted nervously.

Jorah picked up on it immediately.

“Daenerys,” he said, turning to his side to face her. “What’s wrong?”

She felt her cheeks flush with shame.

“I kind of got fired.”

“What?!” Jorah asked. “How?”

“I insulted one of our biggest clients, I basically told her that she was nothing more than a whore who slept her way to a record deal.”

Jorah said nothing, his lips forming an ‘O’ shape as he took in what she’d just said. “What will you do now?” He asked after a number of moments of silence.

Daenerys turned on her side so that they were facing each other, one of her hands tickling the skin of his arm with her fingertips.

“I’ve been thinking of starting my own company with some of the money my father left me. I mean, I have contacts in the business, and I know the industry pretty well.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Daenerys dropped her gaze to their hands as they joined under the sheets.

“I’m terrible with money,” she admitted with a frown. “I know how to spend it and I’ve never really needed to be all that careful about it either. Setting up a business is going to cost a lot and I don’t know the first thing about profit and loss sheets, or how to balance accounts.” She smiled at him, “I don’t suppose you know anyone who knows about that kind of stuff?”

Her subtle hint seemed to fly over Jorah’s head.

“I still know a few people; I can give you some recommendations if you like.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes at him. “For such a smart man you can be so dumb sometimes.”

He looked at her blankly.

“I want you to be my business partner,” she clarified, her heart sinking when she saw the look of terror on his face.

“Daenerys, I don’t have any money to invest - “

She silenced him with a finger on his lips.

“I don’t need your money; I need you to help me run a business that’s successful and makes a profit. If I’m going to do this, I need you by my side.”

“What are you suggesting?” Jorah asked warily

“We split everything 50/50, whatever profit we make.”

Jorah shook his head. “No way,” he replied firmly. “It’s your money, Daenerys. It should be 90/10 to you.”

Daenerys shook her head this time. If he could play hardball so could she.

“60/40.”

“80/20,” Jorah countered.

Sitting up in bed, Daenerys crossed her arms, resolute in her stance that she would accept nothing less than a 60/40 split between them.

“60/40 or I don’t do it all,” she told him firmly before her expression softened. “And I really, really want to do this, Jorah.”

Much like the first time they’d met, Jorah realised that he would forever be fighting a losing battle with the woman he loved and that he would never be able to deny her any of her heart’s desires.

“Fine,” he replied with a resigned sigh. “It’s a deal.”

Daenerys couldn’t help herself as she clapped her hands happily like child being told they’d soon be visiting their favourite theme park.

Jorah wished he could be as excited at the idea as she seemed to be, but all he could think of were the many things that could go wrong.

“What if mixing business and pleasure isn’t such a good idea?” Jorah asked with a frown. “What if the business sinks and we end up hating each other?”

Daenerys cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, I will never, ever hate you, I promise.”

“But what if I ruin it for you?” Try as he might, Jorah couldn’t bear to look at her. He still felt utterly ashamed of his behaviour when married to Lynesse.

“Would you walk away if things got tough?” Daenerys asked, already knowing the answer, but smiling when Jorah shook his head.

“I will never leave you…I will never abandon you; I swear.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time.

“Then that’s enough for me. If the shit hits the fan, we’ll deal with it together, ok? Just you and me against the world?”

Jorah returned her smile with one of his own. He had no idea if he would be worthy of the trust Daenerys was placing in him, but one look at her shining face and he knew he’d travel to hell and back if she asked him to.

* * *

Jeor Mormont sat in the nondescript pub, nursing a glass of scotch and waiting for the man to arrive.

He wasn’t left waiting long.

“Mr Naaharis,” Jeor said bluntly, motioning for the younger man to sit. “Do you have what I asked for?”

Daario Naharis nodded and handed over a manila file, smiling as he watched the older man scan through the photos and files that he’d put together.

“You could have easily got this information through official channels, Chief Superintendent. Why go to the trouble and expense of hiring someone like me?”

Jeor Mormont scowled, downing the rest of his scotch and motioning to the barman to pour him another.

“We’re done here,” Jeor scowled, dismissing the young private investigator with a wave of his hand.

Daario shrugged his shoulders and made to leave. “I’ll expect the rest of the money in my bank account by tomorrow.”

Jeor nodded, his attention firmly on the photos of his son and a young blonde woman sitting on a park bench kissing. He put the photos to one side and scanned the four-page dossier that the investigator had prepared.

Jorah might have been able to avoid him up until now, but Jeor had everything he needed, including an address for his errant young son, and now he had the name of the woman he’d been photographed with dozens of times:

Daenerys Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> (insert evil laugh here)


End file.
